The Legend of Zelda: Evil's Dawn
by bladeofthebookworms
Summary: The legends speak of a hero-a young man clad in green that, whenever evil bares its fangs and rears up out of the darkness, would beat it back into the abyss. The time is now ripe for a new hero to arise… On permanent(?) hiatus; sorry!
1. Chapter 1: The Farm Boy

**Prologue**

The legends speak of a hero—a young man clad in green that, whenever evil bares its fangs and rears up out of the darkness, would beat it back into the abyss.

The time is now ripe for a new hero to arise…

* * *

The lands of Hylia. The Great Sea. The Old Provinces. The Northern Domains. All a part of Hyrule Kingdom.

King Nohansen Daphne-Cole was a mighty King. The lands he ruled were vast and diverse, yet he was able to rule with justice and equity.

Yet there were those that wished for more power.

The Gerudo and various other beings wished for their own lands and their _own_ queen. In secret they amassed their forces together, calling themselves the Gerudic Order. Thus the inhabitants of the eastern coast of Hyrule were thus combined into one great union, almost as large as the armies of Daphne-Cole. Without warning the Gerudic Order attacked the villages and outposts on the border of Hyrule Field, between the lands they wanted for themselves and the land belonging to the King. The buildings were burned to the ground; all adults were killed. Any riches the raiders could find were taken to be added to the army's treasury.

Only the children, now orphans, were spared. They were kept hostage in exchange for the Gerudic Order's secession.

A treaty was signed. The Gerudic Order became the leading force of a new country. The children were released and entrusted to the care of families elsewhere in Hyrule.

All was well for several years… but there are now whispers of darkness stirring again in the Gerudo Desert… of secret plots, of a name breathed to the wind—a name we have heard no tell of for hundreds of years.

The name of Ganondorf.

* * *

Link's eyes were as wide as saucers as Kattha finished her tale. She smiled at him. "Now, dear, don't be frightened. It's only a story."

The child's face was pale. "But parts of it are true—aren't they, Kattha?"

"There is truth to all tales, dear one. Aye, there was a brave young lad named Link who fought evil, and aye there have been villains called Ganondorf or the Demon King or some such over the centuries. But a great deal of their stories are just that—stories, without even the barest hint of good, solid fact. Ganondorf has been dead nigh five hundred years now, lad. We've no need to fear him."

"But what if he comes back? What if those stories are true?" Link asked shrilly, looking urgently into the elderly servant's age-worn face.

She smiled soothingly at him. "Have no fear. He can't come back. 'Tis impossible—complete balderdash. Stories are meant to teach us lessons about doing the right thing. They're not history. You'll understand when you're older. Now sleep."

Link huffed, his breath blowing back the hair hanging over his blue eyes. "So my namesake…"

"The great hero Link is perhaps something of an ideal. Across the course of our history we've had many brave lads named Link, whether it be a family name or a mother merely hoping to inspire courage in her son. I named you Link because I wanted you, despite your circumstances, to grow up as a good boy, and later become a good man."

Link bit his lip. Kattha knew what was coming next. "What do you think my… my real parents named me?"

"Can't say, dear one."

The boy didn't meet her gaze. "I… I wish," he began, but he didn't finish.

Kattha smiled gently. She knew that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't replace the boy's true parents, lost to members of the Gerudic Order in their revolution. He'd only been three years old…. Old enough to remember bits and pieces of his mother and father and perhaps even siblings, but nothing concise.

The poor dear… after the dissension he'd been passed on to a poor family that lacked the resources to care for him. They put him up for adoption; to his utter misfortune he'd been taken in by Artur Senza, a wealthy farm owner in the vast expanse of Hyrule Field.

"We're feeding him and boarding him," the man had said. "Thus he must work for us to pay those debts."

Truly, Link looked the part of a servant little more than a slave.

By day he wore a ratty wide-brimmed hat, too-big trousers, and an old burlap sack with holes cut into it. On his feet were poorly made leather sandals much too small for him— it was a miracle he still had them. At night he wore only his underwear and an ancient, loose-fitting cotton nightshirt that hung like a woman's dress on his slight body. His long golden hair was shaggy; his fair skin faintly freckled beneath his defiant blue eyes.

And that was where his resemblance to every other average servant ended. He was bold; his gaze was fierce and challenging, even as a small boy of eight. He had never once shown fear of any kind for as long as Kattha remembered.

But he was also kind and gentle. The animals he tended to all loved him, for he would spend time with each individually, making sure they were clean, well fed, and happy. Of course, when he was younger, he hadn't been able to tell the difference between doing his job and playing with the animals to make them happy. At the age of five he'd been caught playing in a muddy stye with the pigs. He'd been soundly thrashed for shirking his duties, though Kattha had protested fervently.

"He's but a child," she'd pleaded as Artur Senza raised a thick leather strap over Link's exposed back.

"He needs to learn a lesson," Senza snapped, bringing the strap down on Link's skin.

Kattha never forgot the five year old's cry of pain, nor the night spent holding him in her arms, trying to soothe him as he wept bitterly.

"Kattha?"

She looked down. Link was looking up at her, his blue eyes full of concern. "Ah. Sorry, dear lad, I was reminiscing."

"Remmi-what?"

"Reminiscing—it means thinking on the past. Here—I'll teach you to spell it…"

They bent down over the soft dirt floor of the barn and drew letters with their fingers. Kattha had learned how to read and write years ago; she wanted Link to do the same. In her eyes, literacy marked the difference between an actual person and a mindless beast—a moblin or bokoblin, for instance. She was little more than a slave, like Link, but because she was literate she didn't think of herself as one. By teaching Link to read and write, she hoped to instill within his heart the same thing.

Because he wouldn't be a servant forever, like she. He was something more. She could tell.

 _Nine Years Later_

Link stood beside the gravestone, an empty, aching pain in his soul. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks, mixing with the gentle rain falling all around him, soaking his ragged clothes. Thunder sounded in the distance as he forced his chin not to tremble.

The sun had been hot that day, and there had been too many weeds for Link alone to pull up from the fields. So Kattha, now in her seventies, had been sent from the house to help him. They had been working on opposite ends of the fields.

Around midday, when the sun had been burning its hottest, Link had brought a pail of water to Kattha, worried that she would be unable to make the gruelling walk from the well and back to the fields for a drink. He'd found her collapsed among the corn, not breathing, her heart still and her pulse nonexistent. At that moment Link's world had dissolved into pain, grief and tears… now here he was, standing alone on a hill in the rain, the only one who knew Kattha enough to mourn for her death.

There was only one word on the gravestone, and that was her name: Kattha. There were no dates of birth and death; no epitaph. A spark of fury kindled briefly within him; she deserved more than this. With a lump in his throat, Link knelt down and drew a hammer and nail from his apron. As the overcast day wore on, he carved words to stand the wear of time: "Here rests Kattha, my dear friend, who showed great kindness to me, who became my mother after I lost mine."

The lump in his throat seemed to expand. "Mother," he whispered huskily. In her life he'd never used the word. Now he wished he had, with all of his heart.

Night was falling when he made his way back down the muddy hill. A crisp wind blew, chilling him in his damp clothes as he waded through a sea of tall corn stalks glistening with dew. In the distance was the farmhouse, with its white-painted walls and glass-paned windows glowing from within, lit by warm fires and candles. Link tilted his head, imagining a warm bed soft beneath his back, dreaming of a rich meal of roasted pork and freshly made bread with honey.

But that wasn't his fate for the night. The stables stood apart from the farmhouse, old and weathered, smelling of animals and dung. Link slept there, on a bale of scratchy hay, with nothing but an old, threadbare blanket to keep himself warm. Tonight, cold, shivering, and alone, it felt even more dismal than usual. With a bowed head he slid open the heavy wooden doors and entered the lamp-lit building.

Mr. Senza was waiting for him. "Ye've neglected yer work t'day, boy."

"I was grieving," Link said, trying to hide the tremors in his voice and failing miserably.

"None of the animals have been fed or watered. Their pens are filthy. The fields've not been weeded, either."

"Would it have hurt you to do it yourself for one day?" Link challenged, resentment entering his heart like a bitter taste. "I'm the reason your crops grow and your animals obey you. Can't you do me a favor for once?"

"You owe me, boy, for every meal, for the clothes on yer back, for a place to lay yer head at night. Ye're working for me until that debt's paid off."

The resentment burned fiercer. "You legally adopted me. You're supposed to be taking care of me!"

"Ye'll do as I say," Senza threatened, "or ye'll be punished. That includes doing work when I tell yeh, even when yeh don't feel like it." He paused and regarded the young man before him with thoughtful eyes. "Yeh want to leave; I see it in yer eyes. What would yeh do if yeh did leave, eh? All that yeh have belongs ter me. If yeh left, what could yeh do? Well, I'll tell yeh—ye'd die."

"I'd find work and live on the streets 'til I saved enough for a room at an inn," Link defended, his jaw set.

"Yer clothin' belongs to me. What if I took it, eh? Who'd hire yeh then?"

"What do you want with a torn burlap sack, anyway?" Link retorted. "You couldn't use it for anything. Besides, even if you took it, I could weave clothes out of grass and leaves."

Senza barked a laugh. "I'd like to see ye try, boy."

Link frowned. "I _can_ do it," he responded stubbornly.

Senza shook his head. "Fine. Let's say yeh did. Yeh'd still have to walk a few miles on foot with naught but _grass_ ter protect ye from the night beasts—keese and wolfos, perhaps a hinox or two. And let's not forget deku scrubs an' octoroks an' deku-baba plants. D'yeh want to be eaten whole?"

Link's jaw clenched in defiance for several moments as he glared at his master. Then his shoulders slumped and he looked down, defeated.

Senza continued smugly, "Now, about yer punishment for not doing yer work today… a few lashes outta do. And then I'll have to find someone to replace that old hag, what's her name…"

"Her name's Kattha!" Link roared, unable to contain himself any longer. "You know what, _I'll_ do her work starting tomorrow so that I can pay off my 'debt' sooner and start earning actual money."

Senza's smirk vanished. He could hardly deny the legitimacy of the boy's proposition. On the one hand, he wouldn't have to hire someone else, someone without experience. While Link was considerably hotheaded, there was no denying that the quality of his work was superb and almost always flawless. On the other hand, with the boy doing extra work, his debt would have to be considered null and void after a while. And then he'd have to pay the boy, who would eventually leave.

Then again… a minimum wage of twenty rupees a day wouldn't get him anywhere fast. It would be at least two years before he could afford to support himself; perhaps more. And in that time Senza would only get richer. He licked his lips eagerly. "Fine. Now turn yer back."

Link inhaled and undid his apron, hanging it on a hook. Then he pulled off his ragged burlap shirt, approached the wall, and wrapped his fingers around the two iron rings in the barn wall, put in place for exactly this purpose. The thick leather strap snapped down on his back and his breath hissed out through his teeth. He gripped the iron rings tighter; again and again the leather cracked across his bare shoulders and back; Link's pride faltered and a sharp cry escaped his lips. After the fifth lash, his knees buckled and he nearly lost his grip on the rings. The beating continued until Link felt something hot dripping down his back.

"Son of a keese," Senza cursed. "Didn't mean to… ah, well. Clean up the strap, will yeh? Don't forget them new chores in the morning in addition to everythin' else. Five months; then I start paying yeh." He stalked out of the barn, slamming the door on the way out.

Stiffly Link sank to his knees, breathing heavily. This was his seventh beating; he never got used to the stinging, aching pain that rendered almost all movement exponentially more difficult. But this was the first time the lash had actually drawn blood. He could feel it running down his back in hot rivulets.

Groaning, he got to his feet and walked haltingly to the five horses kept in the barn. Each was watching him anxiously—especially a young russet mare named Epona. Link smiled painfully at them. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "Sorry for forgetting you."

Dusk tossed her head; Shag, the oldest, gently nuzzled his chest. Link sat in the straw and the five horses knelt around him, knowing what would come next.

Despite the pain in his back he took down the brushes hanging on the wall and, one by one, gently and thoroughly groomed the horses until their coats were soft and clean. Then he left them and scrubbed the leather strap that had thrashed him with saddle soap until the bloodstains were gone. Finally, exhausted and sore, he returned to his pile of straw and lay on his stomach, falling asleep almost instantly.

* * *

By morning, the wound across his back had scabbed over, but most movement caused the skin to draw tight and almost break open again. Slowly, gingerly, he pulled his shirt over his head and fastened his apron around his waist. Then he began his new chores.

The sun rose and set. Link worked from dawn until dusk in the fields, in the barn, and now, in the farmhouse as well.

Senza's wife actually wasn't that bad. As he cleaned, she would slip him an occasional snack with a kind smile. She had auburn hair and kind brown eyes; she wore a plain white dress and a blue apron. She baked cakes and sold them, donating her earnings to various charities. This, of course, was why she never had time to clean the house herself, although at times Link arrived to find one of the rooms already spotlessly clean, or the dishes done, or something similar.

Senza's daughter Calgatha was another matter. She was Link's age, but they had nothing else in common. She was spoiled rotten and loved tormenting him. Relentlessly she mocked him about his poor clothes and perpetual "stink of horse."

"Well, you try living in a barn and we'll see how you smell," Link retorted, his cheeks burning.

Calgatha complained to her father and Link was beaten.

Senza himself was rarely around the farmhouse. Most days he went to the nearby Kakariko Village, sitting in councils with the mayor. It sounded like the easiest and most well-paying job in Hyrule and it almost made Link nauseous to think that while he slaved under the hot sun, his master sat on his rear in a comfortable room, doing nothing of importance.

The air grew colder as autumn fully set in. Flowers began to shrivel and die; a thin layer of frost glittered upon the farm when morning came. For the past month, Link had harvested the pumpkins, corn, and wheat; then came what he thought of as Delivery Week—his one chance each year to go to Kakariko Village. There he was to sell most of the harvest, and the rest was stored away for the winter.

Link scrubbed his face and arms in a small pond near the barn; he cleaned his shirt, pants, and apron and tried to look halfway decent. Then he hitched Epona, groomed and shining and looking far more presentable than he did, to the cart, already loaded with as much of the produce as could fit. He hopped onto the edge of the cart and clicked his tongue, urging Epona into an easy trot.

"Ready for an adventure?" he asked her casually. She snorted in response. "Yeah, I know… it won't _really_ be an adventure. But it's your first time away from the farm—surely that's something worth celebrating, right?"

She turned her head halfway to glance back at him for a bare second. Then she thrust her head forward, chomping on the bit.

In other words, she didn't think it was something exciting one bit. Because she knew she'd have to go back to the farm at the end of the day. Link understood the feeling so well, he'd be able to read it on anyone, whether or not they were Hylian or Sheikah or Gerudo or Goron or Zora or horse. Every day of his life, he was stuck at Senza's estate, unable to escape the monotonous working day in and day out.

"Maybe we'll escape together," Link said, noting how the mare's ears flicked back to acknowledge him. "I'll work until I've saved enough to buy you from him. Then we'll leave. How does that sound, Epona? We could go to Castle Town and see the jousting tournaments and horse racing. Or we could go to Gorko City and meet the Gorons. Maybe even Lake Floria, home of the legendary Farosh, Guardian Spirit of Farore herself. D'you think she still lives there?"

Epona tossed her head and snorted.

"I know they say that the dragons disappeared hundreds of years ago, but still—maybe they're just in hiding somewhere, waiting for the right time to come back. There's three of them, y'know, one to protect each part of the Triforce. Farosh protects Farore's piece; it represents life and courage. Then Naydra protect's Nayru's piece, the one that stands for love and wisdom. And finally there's the one guarded by the Dinraal, Din's piece—the one that frightens me the most. It represents power, Epona, and we both know that no one who ever had power used it for good. Like Senza, for instance."

He could tell that Epona wasn't interested in his words any longer; she wasn't responding to him and her ears faced the road ahead. Still Link continued to talk, reliving the myths and legends he'd grown up with. But gradually he fell silent; Kattha had been the one to tell him those tales, and her death continued to bring unchecked pain into his heart, even though a month had passed since she'd gone. Did the agony of such loss fade with time? He didn't know.

They trotted into Kakariko Village. Link nodded a friendly hello to the armored guards standing on either side of the gap in the fence surrounding the village, and as always they returned it, smiling openly. Link maneuvered his cart onto the crowded road cutting directly through the middle of the town, breathing in the acrid scent of a blacksmith's forge and the sweet aromas of irises emanating from a florist's colorful stall nearby. Lilting music played on lute, recorder, and timbrel sang through the streets, adding to the cheerful, lively ambience. Small children ran around, chasing each other and laughing merrily while others sat quietly and played with corn husk dolls under the shade of a tall beech tree standing off to one side of the road. Their parents, along with visitors from nearby farms, mulled in the streets, picking over the various wares for sales.

Beautiful pendants made of silver and gold hung from delicate chains on display; brightly colored tunics, dresses, and kimonos stood on carved wooden models under the cover of a patchwork tent set up on the roadside. Link continued down the street and the mouth-watering scent of fried cucco legs filled his nose(though for the life of him he couldn't fathom how anyone had managed to slay, let alone cook, the feisty chickens; they were fiercely loyal to one another and unbelievably aggressive). A haggard-looking man in a thick leather apron declared that his farming tools were of better quality than even those made by Gorons. And, of course, a nearby Goron took offense and the two began arguing furiously. Link felt a surge of pity for the blacksmith; Gorons were massive, sturdily-built rock-people that lived in volcanoes and ate stones for breakfast. He knew who would be the worse for wear after the squabble was over.

At last Link reached the stall rented by his master and hopped down from the cart, tethering Epona to the hitching post nearby. He arranged the produce he'd brought from the estate on shelves and tables within the small space before walking back outside into the glaring sunlight. Then he began declaring his wares just like the twenty or so other peddlers lining the street. "Get your pumpkins! Perfect for all kinds of soup and pie! Get your pumpkins, squash, and corn, right over here, fresh off of Senza's farm!"

By noon he'd sold half of what he'd brought. Pleased by the fruits of his labors, he took Epona back to where he'd seen the beech tree and they rested beneath it, munching on apples. The fruit had been a gift from Mrs. Senza, who had handed them to Link that morning before he'd gone out. He smiled, savoring the sweet taste so different from the bland bone soup he normally had for sustenance.

"Hi," a friendly voice said. Surprised, Link looked up to see a young girl around his age with a confident smile and fiery azure eyes. Her sunshine-colored hair hung in two braids down her back, and she was dressed in a dull red tunic and a pair of long brown trousers, both held in place by a broad leather belt. Dusty boots came up to her knees and a dull green cloak played around her ankles in the temperate breeze.

Link was speechless. She was nothing like the other girls he'd interacted with—namely, Kattha and Calgatha—in every possible way. "Oh—er, hi," he stammered when he recovered the use of his tongue.

"So do you live here?" the girl asked, smiling eagerly. Perhaps she was trying to be friendly; Link didn't really know, since no one had ever really been friendly to him before—at least, no one his age.

"K-kind of," he answered hesitantly. "Why do you want to know?"

She shrugged. "I'm just a bit of an adventurer, bent on seeing the world, and I'd greatly appreciate it if someone were to show me around."

"I only come here once a year," Link tried to explain, shifting closer to Epona, who was kneeling on the ground beside him. "And I really shouldn't go far—I need to watch over my wares, to make sure they aren't stolen."

"Then take them with us. I've walked a long way; you could take me in your cart over there. That _is_ yours, isn't it?" Without waiting for an invitation, she headed back up the street and hopped into the back of Link's cart.

"Wait," Link tried, getting to his feet. Noticing his movement, Epona stood as well, looking at the girl with amusement on her long face. With a sigh, Link walked after the girl, hoping to convince her to get out of the cart.

"Come on," she invited, patting the space beside her and flashing an eager smile. "And what's your name, by the way?"

"I'm Link," he responded, feeling frustration take seed in his heart. The way she automatically assumed that he would bend to her will was infuriating. "And, look, I don't really know you; I don't know this town. If I'm back late, my… my master may be angry. He often comes to Kakariko himself, and if he sees me goofing off…"

"Then we'll be sneaky," the girl countered, rubbing her hands together eagerly. "I'm… er, Nicole, by the way. And we shouldn't take the cart if we're trying to be sneaky, so you'll have to leave your wares. I'll pay for any damage sustained—"

"And I'll still be punished," Link retorted. "I'm sorry, alright? I have my responsibilities to take care of."

"For Nayru's love, your master doesn't _own_ you, does he? You can do whatever you want in this kingdom as long as it doesn't break the law, didn't you know? Do you _really_ want to stay here and guard vegetables all day long?"

 _"Yes,"_ Link growled. "Because he _does_ own me, and I'm trying to earn my freedom. Got that? I want to stay on his good side."

Nicole looked suitably chagrined; the color drained from her cheeks and she stared at him in wide-eyed horror. "Oh. _Oh._ I'm sorry. I'm… so sorry, Link. I'll just… leave you alone, then." As if she had a fire lit beneath her, she jumped down from the cart and hurried away from him, disappearing into the crowd.

Link bit his lip. _Maybe I was a bit harsh,_ he thought guiltily. As if she'd read his mind, Epona nipped at his hand as if in chastisement.

With a heart heavily laden with regret he returned to the shadows of his stall and continued calling out the pumpkins, zucchini, and butternut squash left to sell.

"Y'ask twenty rupees for _that_ ragged bunch?" asked a true bear of a man, sneering at the corn.

Link wondered, none too kindly, if he was related in some way to a hinox. He shrugged coolly in response. "I don't find them 'ragged-looking' at all. I'll have you consider the fact that twenty rupees is minimum wage for a day's work, and it took a good deal longer than a single day to grow them. I'd say you're getting more than a fair deal."

"And _I_ say they're complete garbage, and I ought to get them free. With a few pumpkins thrown in."

"I have to disagree. If you want these, pay up. A life of working hard hasn't made me any weaker and I'm prepared to use force if you insist on lowering the price to nothing. Now please, go on your way or pay the price I've set. It's your choice."

"I'll give you ten rupees."

"Twenty."

"Fifteen."

"Twenty."

The man growled. "Eighteen."

"What's two rupees more? Twenty."

It was then that Link noticed two other tall, muscular men approaching, cracking their knuckles. The first man looked at them, smiling. "I believe yer whole wagon is mine now."

"I have to disagree," Link responded, feeling his heartbeat quicken.

The three men attacked first, one of them punching him squarely in the jaw and splitting his lip. Link instantly retaliated, vaulting over the tabletop displaying his wares and punching two of the thugs in quick succession. He grabbed the third man by the ear and yanked him closer. "I suggest you leave now," he whispered threateningly. Then he slugged the man in the eye and shoved him away. For one moment the three of them glared at him with unbridled fury before fleeing like cowards.

With a heavy sigh, Link retreated behind the table and rubbed a hand over his eyes. Now that the skirmish was over, the pain in his jaw returned in full; he was grateful that it hadn't been dislocated.

A sudden swish of fabric, uncomfortably close, sounded in his sensitive Hylian ears. But when he spun around, there was no one there.

The sun began to go down as Link sold the last of the crops. He tossed the burlap sack containing the rupees he'd earned into the back of the cart; then he fastened the harness around Epona's chest and started heading back the way he'd come. As fiery orange evening light descended on the village, the busy crowds dissipated until only the craftsmen were left, packing up what was left of their wares and heading back to their homes. Link yawned, stretching his sore jaw and wincing slightly.

Suddenly the fading sunshine glinted off of something bright; turning towards the flash that hit his eyes, he caught a glimpse of the three burly men charging through an alley after a golden braid.

Nicole.

Link's instincts told him she was in trouble. He hid Epona and the cart inside of an empty stall and hurried into the alleyway.

"Stay away from me, you brutes!" A high-pitched, frightened voice. Nicole's voice. Link rounded a bend and saw her cornered against a brick wall, with the three men surrounding her.

"We ain't gonna hurt yeh," one of them growled. Link recognized him as the man who'd tried to haggle him into lowering his prices. The Haggler.

"Naw; we just want yer pretty li'l earrings," a second man chortled, the tallest of the three. White-faced and wide-eyed, Nicole looked terrified.

Link grit his teeth and stepped forward. "Hey! Leave her alone!" he demanded, narrowing his eyes and trying to dispel the uncertainty swimming in his stomach.

The three men turned around, and the shortest drew a knife. Uneasiness turned to fear, but Link forced himself not to waver. "Put that blade away," he ordered, trying to remain calm. "I'm pretty sure it's illegal to attack without a reason, and seeing as I'm not attacking you… It's not a very bright idea. But then, you three look about as intelligent as bokoblins anyway, so…"

"I'll admit, yeh got guts, kid," the Haggler growled. "I suppose we'll just have ta see them spilt, eh?"

"Leave him alone!" Nicole protested desperately. "M-my father will give you money—don't hurt me and he'll pay you, I promise—"

"Shut it," growled the tall one, slapping her mouth. At her startled cry Link stepped forward.

"Don't touch her," he snapped, his heart pounding.

The Haggler grinned. "Get 'im."

The man with the knife, the short one, raced forwards. Link braced himself and grabbed the hand with the knife, smacking Shorty's wrist as hard as he could. The knife dropped and Link dived for it, but one of the men grabbed him from behind, holding his burly arm against the boy's throat and squeezing hard. Link grimaced in discomfort and kicked backwards, digging his heel into the thug's shin and simultaneously thrusting his elbow between the man's ribs. The grip on his neck loosened and he ducked free, but Shorty had reclaimed his knife and together with the Haggler, they backed him into the corner. Link grit his teeth; he glanced to his right to see that Nicole was still being threatened by the third man, the tallest one.

She was still in danger.

Link grabbed for Shorty's knife, but the Haggler intercepted him, snatching his wrists and gripping them tightly while kneeing his groin. Link doubled over in pain, just as the knife whistled over his head and hit the wall instead. A massive fist smashed him to the cobblestone street below and he blacked out for a moment, his head throbbing wildly in pain. His vision cleared and he found himself pinned to the wall by Shorty while the Haggler drove his fists into his stomach, driving the breath from his lungs. The tallest man grinned crookedly, holding a fistful of Nicole's braids as he looked on.

Link couldn't breathe; his vision was swimming and he could feel his lunch rising up within him, ready to be expelled, when a sudden clatter of hoofbeats reached his long ears. Startled, the three thugs turned around just as several armored knights on massive white horses burst around the corner, bearing the crest of the Royal Family on their shields.

"Unhand the Princess," their captain demanded.

Link's bruised jaw dropped. _Princess?!_

"Yer honor!" the Haggler exclaimed as he fell to his knees, his face as white as bone. "Our apologies! We didn't know!" The other two thugs joined him in a kneeling position, letting Link fall to the ground. He, too, got to his knees, keeping his head bowed in submission. His thoughts raced, running over everything he'd said to Nicole—he'd been so rude! She could have him hanged!

"Are you safe, Princess Zelda?" the captain asked solemnly.

"Y-yes—thank you," Nicole responded, sounding shaken.

"Very well. Listen up, the four of you; consider yourselves fortunate that she is unharmed, otherwise you would be hanged in the morning."

There was a clatter of hoofbeats. When he was certain they were gone, Link got to his feet. He noticed the three thugs staring down the alleyway, their faces frozen in masks of awe. He saw his chance and sprinted away.

"Hey! Get back here!" the Haggler exclaimed.

 _Not on your life,_ Link thought, increasing his speed.


	2. Chapter 2: The Princess

**The Princess**

"Zelda, this needs to stop." King Nohansen Daphne-Cole rubbed his graying temples, utterly exasperated. "What was this, your _tenth_ escapade in five months? And all of your disguises… I'll admit they're not bad, but honestly—there are better things for a princess to be doing!"

"Father, you know the legends. Most of my ancestors were quite useless—they either made mistakes that nearly destroyed the kingdom or they were uselessly kidnapped by demonic villains. If I sit around doing nothing all day, who's to say that my future won't hold the same?" Zelda protested. "Going out to be among the people I will one day rule is extremely educating—I'm learning more with each excursion. You must let me continue!"

Her father wagged a finger at her. "But this time you were in _actual danger!_ Four… for _ruffians,_ for lack of a better word, attacked you—"

"There were _three,_ Father," she interrupted sharply. "The fourth was a gallant young farm boy that defended me. And he did a good job of it… at first."

"There won't always be such a person able to protect you," the King growled. "And you say 'at first,' which leads me to be that there would have been serious trouble if Higan hadn't arrived when he did."

"But, Father—"

"You're grounded, young lady," the King declared angrily. "For _at least_ a month. I'll see to it that Impa doesn't let you out."

Zelda scowled grumpily. "I don't _need_ a bodyguard, Father…"

"Your actions today have proven that you do." He sighed tiredly. "I'm trying to protect you, Zelda. You'll understand someday."

Zelda bit her lip angrily and spun on her heel, marching stiffly to her bedroom. She sat down at her desk, scowling at her diary, and put her head down.

People wanted her to be a stereotypical princess—dainty and sophisticated, caring only about gowns and make-up and jewelry, with a head as empty as a bokoblin's horn. Instead, Zelda wanted to learn—she wanted to gain wisdom about the world she lived in so that when eventually she became the Queen, she would be more than a puppet ruler beside a King that controlled all. Ignorance was not bliss; it was a prison. Her father didn't understand at all.

Sighing, she opened her journal and dipped a nearby kargorok-feather quill in a waiting inkwell, doing what she always did when she returned from a venture.

"Today I met an interesting person. His name was Link, like the legendary heroes of old, but at first he didn't seem at all heroic. He was rather rude to me, actually, but this was perhaps because I assumed that he was a farmer's son when actually he was some sort of slave. (I thought that was illegal in Hyrule; I'll have to ask my father about it sometime.) There I was, trying to convince me to show me around, and he utterly refused. When he explained that he was trying to earn his freedom, I was appalled by my behavior and left as quickly as I could. Ignorance is _not_ bliss, as I've said before.

"On my way out of town, I was chased down an alleyway by three men scarcely better than hinoxen, but somehow Link found me and tried to defend me. He lost the fight, but by then Captain Higan had arrived and carried me back to the safety of the palace."

She paused for a moment, remembering the fear in her heart as she'd watched him get beaten on her behalf. "He was really brave," she added in a rush. Then she closed her book before she could give in to the temptation to be more of a stereotypical princess—the kind that swooned over attractive young men.

His clothing had been quite poor; he wore a ragged shirt that might once have been a bag containing feed for horses. It was split down the sides and held around his waist by a ragged apron; there was a hole at the top for his head to poke through. His legs were clad in loose, knee-length tan trousers, and his feet were shod in straw sandals that didn't look very durable at all. A straw hat kept the sun out of his face; wheat-colored hair hung almost to his shoulders.

Zelda sighed dreamily, gazing out of her bedroom window, as she thought about his face. It was kind and gentle; his eyes were so blue that she was almost afraid to look into them, uncertain whether she would be able to save herself from drowning in their depths. And as she thought, she contemplated her ignorance towards him and his circumstances, and her selfishness in asking him to show her around. Her heart ached sorrowfully and the inklings of another adventure took seed in her soul.

 _I'll go and apologize to him,_ she decided. _Right now._

With her mind made up, she left her room and started making her way to the library.

"And where do you think _you're_ going?" a stern voice echoed through the hall from behind. Zelda jumped and spun around; her bodyguard and her father's highest adviser, Impa, was leaning against the wall.

"The library, of course," the Princess answered without hesitation. Ten different disguises had forced her to develop a keen ability to act. "Instructor Kaepo told me to write a paper on economics by Moon's Day."

"That's in five days, Zelda. And since you're grounded, you'll have plenty of time to work on it tomorrow."

Zelda cringed inwardly. Impa was a Sheikah—one of the mysterious beings that had sworn eons ago to protect the Royal Family of Hyrule at any cost. No one knew much about the Sheikah, except for the fact that they were as close as it came to being invincible, and they had extraordinarily keen senses. And Zelda's acting wasn't fooling Impa one bit. "I just wanted to find some books," she protested. "You know how I am in the morning; I hate getting out of bed. I thought if I got the books _now,_ I'd be able to stay in bed _and_ get work done."

Impa's orange eyes narrowed slightly. Zelda forced her features to remain calm and impassive. "...Very well," the Sheikah relented. "But, on your father's orders, I am to accompany you wherever you go."

This was a test; Impa wanted her to protest and complain and give herself away. Zelda smiled brightly. "Alright. I need information on farms in the surrounding area and the work force for each. Would you help me look?"

There was the teensiest relaxation in the Sheikah's taut shoulders, and Zelda knew that she'd won. "Of course. Lead the way, Your Highness."

Zelda turned towards the stairwell leading to the lower floors and tried to conceal her delight. Impa would help her track down Link without even knowing it!

The library was the largest room in the castle. The past Kings and Queens of Hyrule were well-known for their eager pursuit of knowledge, and as a result, they had collected thousands of scrolls and books over the years. The best part was that, through some ancient form of magic, it expanded as needed, and new bookcases would appear and stretch and grow to hold the tomes placed within. Shelves stretched all the way to the vaulted ceiling; wooden tables stood in corners with hundreds of books stacked precariously on top. Zelda smiled as she passed a pile of books arranged like a spiral staircase; she'd made it when she was younger and used it to play with her dolls, and for some reason it had never been straightened.

Impa took the lead, striding confidently to a relatively new-looking area of the library and selected a shiny roll of parchment. "Here," she said assuredly, handing it to the Princess. "That should suffice."

"Thank you," Zelda said, forcing herself to look surprised. Now she wanted the Sheikah to think she was stalling for time, not wanting to get back to her room. "I-is there anything else that I might need…?"

"Absolutely not," Impa chided sternly. "You need to go to bed."

Inwardly, Zelda smirked. Her plan had worked again. She assumed a pouting face. "But, Impa…"

"The moon is almost fully-risen. Any decent Princess should have been in bed by now."

This time Zelda's scowl was sincere. "Any _useless, idiotic_ princess, you mean," she muttered angrily. "I suppose if I want to be a 'decent princess' I'll have to get myself captured by some demon, right? And then I'll have to clasp my hands and beg for a hero to come and save me. 'Oh, help me, help me! I'm useless and you must do everything for me!'"

" _That_ is enough," Impa snapped, grabbing her wrist and dragging her out of the library. "Even the 'decent princess' you mock has more dignity than you had just now."

Zelda resisted the urge to stick out her tongue. It was infuriating! Couldn't anyone see sense?! This was why she had to get out every now and then! If she didn't, she would never be of any help to anyone! Her ignorance with Link only served to prove this point.

"You will apologize," Impa demanded as they reached her bedroom door.

Zelda's teeth clenched. _No! I won't! It was a perfectly accurate description of my predecessors! And I WILL NOT BE LIKE THEM!_

But she took a deep, shuddering breath and looked at her toes. "I. Am. Sorry," she hissed.

"You can do better than that," Impa warned in a low, threatening voice. "I expect some sincerity in your apology when I see you in the morning. Now you get some good rest tonight so you can do a good job on your essay."

Zelda nodded stiffly, spun around, and slammed the door to her room. It was childlike, she knew, but it was worth it. She had to get her anger out _somehow,_ and the door was closest.

 _Alright. Calm down. Now I can focus on getting back to Link._ Sitting down at her desk, she unfurled the scroll and studied the new parchment. A map of Central Hyrule Field was spread out before her; various areas were colored differently, with a key off to the side. Zelda's heart sank and she cursed herself for stupidity. A list of farms in the region, when she didn't even know the name of the man Link worked for, would be next to useless. With a deep sigh, she ran her eyes down the key, wishing she'd asked Impa for something different.

But near the bottom of the list were two words that piqued her curiosity. _Indentured Servants._ Wasn't that what Link was? Or had he been a slave?

Zelda straightened. Slavery was illegal in Hyrule. And yet Link had told her that he was _owned_ by someone. Perhaps he _was_ a slave, but his master, whoever it was, might have claimed that he was an indentured servant to avoid suspicion.

She scanned the map again. Almost equidistant from Hyrule Castle and Kakariko Village was the only farm in Central Hyrule Field that hired indentured servants. It belonged to a man called Artur Senza. Zelda grinned; she could do this.

One last adventure.

Quickly she dug under her bed for her secret stash of disguises. Most of her collection had been used already and subsequently confiscated by her father, but at least five remained. She pulled out a pair of black pants and matching knee-high boots, followed by a leather vest, belt, and gauntlets. Last was a close-fitting gray shirt with long sleeves and a hood. Quickly Zelda changed into the clothes and pinned her long golden hair close to her head before pulling up the hood, hiding her face in shadow.

The question was, how would she get out? Impa would be guarding her door; she obviously couldn't get out that way. But that left only one option—the window.

Zelda smiled. Now _this_ would be a fitting end to her excursions.

Very few people knew that in a hidden compartment in each bedroom of the castle, there was a coil of rope designed to be let down out the window. If the castle were ever attacked, anyone in the bedrooms could escape out the window.

Zelda was one of those few people, and she knew exactly where the secret compartment was. Quickly she stepped onto the windowsill and fingered the ceiling above her head. Just beyond the golden trim was a faint drawing of the Wingcrest, the symbol of the Royal Family. Zelda pressed the image of the Triforce at the center of the drawing and a panel opened, releasing a thick rope. Zelda pulled it out to the fullest extent, tied the end around her waist, and let herself down the window. She was reasonably confident that she wouldn't be spotted; the guards would be looking for someone trying to sneak _in,_ not out. Smiling eagerly, she rappelled down the smooth stone tower, grateful for the days she'd spent climbing everything in the castle with a stable boy her age. But her grin faded as she remembered that he'd died of sickness a year after she'd met him.

 _When I'm queen, I'll see to it that commoners are given the same health treatments as the wealthy,_ she decided. _No one's life is worth more than another's._

She reached solid, grassy ground safely and tied the rope around a large stone so that she could climb back up when she returned. Then, as silently as she could, she crept through the shadows to her father's stables. She had received her own horse a year ago on her birthday, and since he hadn't been used on any of her escapades, he hadn't been taken away from her. His name was Rafton; his coat was a beautiful golden color, like fields of grain in autumn, and his mane and tail were as pale as a winter wolfos' pelt. Zelda strode quickly to his stall, gently waking him from sleep with a soft call, and adorned him in saddle and bridle. She led him out the way she'd come—through the back door, which wasn't guarded since most horses were too big to fit. Rafton was the exception; he was exceptionally slim-boned and more slender than the King's warhorse or the knights' battle steeds.

Zelda didn't mount up once she'd gotten outside. Instead she took to the horse to the secret exit she'd always used for her adventures. It had taken to years to find out how Impa slipped in and out of the castle walls without anyone knowing and years more to find the magically hidden doorway she used, and then several months to discover the word of enchantment used to open the path.

"Vierda," Zelda whispered, and a segment of the wall, once solid, faded away into nothingness, revealing the darkened cobblestone streets of Castle Town beyond. She swung herself up onto Rafton's back and set off at a moderate canter, retracing the path she'd taken just that morning on the back of an ancient mule she'd paid a poor farmer handsomely for. She remembered passing a crossroads at about the same spot, or close to the same spot, Senza's estate would have been. It wouldn't take her too long to get back there, especially since she was riding one of the kingdom's finest horses.

As she continued through the starry night, she wondered what she would say to Link. _I'll apologize, of course,_ she thought. _But I'm not riding all the way out there just for_ that. _I know it's the middle of the night, but if we could just start a conversation… maybe we could become friends! Maybe he'll see that I'm better than just an ignorant, helpless princess…_

Zelda scowled, tightening her grip on the reins. Even if she _did_ manage to befriend Link tonight, her father would never allow her to see him again. Doing so would mean sending her out among the 'rabble,' as he called it, and _that_ was decidedly un-princess-like behavior.

A gentle breeze whistled across the empty fields, eerily rustling the grasses and creating a sound much like a hinox's sigh of fatigue. Countless stars were sprinkled across the vast, endless sky, forming clouds and patterns that painted the night. Gazing upwards, Zelda could see splashes of dark violet and even green mixed with the indigo.

An owl hooted. Crickets sang, filling the air with peaceful music; somewhere frogs were chirping. Rafton's hooves clomped dully on the solidly-packed dry dirt path. The horse's heavy breathing added to the soundscape of the nightly world, along with the creaking of leader and jangle of metal from the bit in his mouth. He tossed his head, snorting, and Zelda turned her focus from the world around them to the road ahead. She squinted; in the darkness beyond them she could just make out the tall wooden post that denoted the crossroad. Smiling at her success, she allowed Rafton to slow to a quick trot until they reached the sign. Sure enough, one arrow pointed to "Senza Estate," while the other gestured onward down the main road, to Kakariko Village.

Horse and rider turned to the west and cantered down the dusty path towards the farmhouse hulking in the distance. Fields gleamed silver in the moonlight and pumpkin patches beginning to whither curled ominously on the side of the road; Zelda wondered with a shudder if any chuchu lurked beneath the broad leaves, resisting the urge to spur Rafton into a gallop. Instead, once they were a safe distance from the ominous dark garden, she tugged lightly on the reins, allowing the stallion to come to a stop.

 _It's the middle of the night… Link is probably asleep,_ she realized all at once, her heart sinking as she studied the affluent mansion before her. A _nd… even if I knew how to break into a house and possessed the willpower to do so, how would I find him here? It'd take me hours to find him… there must be a hundred rooms in that building…_ She swallowed tightly. _And if I were caught by Artur Senza—which I probably would be if I broke in—Father would be furious. I might_ never _earn his forgiveness._

The folly of her plan crashed down upon her shoulders and she released a heavy sigh, bowing her head. This never would have worked, she chastised herself. And now I definitely won't see Link again. "Sorry, Rafton," she murmured, stroking her horse's silky neck. "Let's get back home."

Suddenly one of the windows of the farmhouse blazed to life. Zelda looked up in surprise, her heart instantly lifting at the ridiculous thought that, perhaps somehow, Link had sensed her presence and awakened. She waited several moments in agony of suspense, hardly daring to place her faith in such an absurd notion.

Then the front door banged open; a short, swarthy man gripping a torch stood beneath the eaves. "Who's there?" he demanded warily, and Zelda's heart skipped a beat. _Not Link,_ she realized, digging her heels into Rafton's sides and spurring him into a swift gallop.

"Hey!" the farmer exclaimed "Get back here, thief!"

Zelda cringed, huddled low on Rafton's back. She could hear the man's crunching footsteps in pursuit beneath the pounding drum of her stallion's hoofbeats and wished, for once, that her steed didn't stand out quite so much. "Go!" she whispered into the animal's long ears, and he whickered nervously in response.

She heard a clamor of shouting in the distance—something about a farm boy—and gave Rafton full rein, hoping he would respond with more speed.

But all at once someone threw themselves in front of Rafton's path and she screamed in horror, closing her eyes as her horse skidded to an abrupt stop and pawed the air with his forelegs, neighing in shrill terror. Rough hands grabbed at her and tossed her to the ground among tall, dry stalks of corn; the breath was driven from her lungs and when she could breathe again and her dizzy mind cleared, she saw two familiar eyes above her own. She gaped at them in astonishment. "L-Link!" she exclaimed breathily, and he scrambled away as if burned.

"Nicole?" he demanded in disbelief. "What-what in Din's name are you doing here?!"

Her cheeks burned and she struggled into a sitting position. She opened her mouth to explain, but at that moment she could hear hurried, approaching footsteps and a rough shout. "Oi, whelp! Y'got 'em?"

She looked at Link desperately. "Please help me!" she begged. "Hide me—if my father finds out I've gotten out I'll never see daylight again!" It was probably an exaggeration, but she truly feared her the King's wrath, and there was no telling what he would do if he learned of this latest escapade.

The color drained from Link's face, as if he had suddenly remembered just who her father was and that she, in fact, was the Princess of the realm. He nodded quickly and got to his feet. "Stay in the shadows, and don't move," he murmured, glancing down at her before moving back into the road, back towards Rafton. "I stopped the horse, but the rider got away. I'm sorry."

The farmer holding the torch drew nearer, and Zelda felt her cheeks warm with a blush—Link was clothed only in the thin trousers he'd been wearing earlier in the day, and in the firelight the smooth muscles of his chest gleamed.

"Yeh sure?" the farmer demanded. "Thought I saw yeh with someone in them bushes."

"I followed them a few paces, but… the ground is hard here. It's been a dry autumn and the soil and weeds were rough on my feet. That thief is long gone by now."

With his free hand the farmer struck Link across the face, and Zelda suppressed a startled cry as Link grunted in pain. "Yeh good fer nothin' brat," the older man scowled. "Where're yer shoes?"

"They broke," Link responded, his voice containing hardly-bridled anger. "If you hadn't noticed, I've had the same pair for ten years. I'd like to see you try to run across an uneven field with nothing to protect your feet."

The farmer slapped him again, his eyes narrowed in fury. "Speak to me that way again, and I'll thrash that attitude outta yeh," he growled. "Find somethin' to do with that horse. Sell it tomorrow. Kill it. I don't care."

Link nodded stiffly. "I'll do that," he muttered, eyes downcast.

"Next time, don't let anyone get that close," the man threatened, wagging a knobbly finger at the boy and turning away, taking the warm torchlight with him. Link's shoulders slumped.

"You can come out now," he said quietly, and Zelda quickly got to her feet.

"I'm so sorry," she blurted out desperately. "I never wanted you to get hurt because of me…"

Link quickly dropped to his knees, bowing his head. "I've felt much worse than that. Don't worry about me. But… I'm sorry, Your Highness, for… well, my indecency, for one. And for being so rude earlier."

"Please just call me Zelda," she protested. "You don't have to kneel. And… I didn't lie to you, earlier. Nicole is my middle name."

Hesitantly Link got to his feet, eyeing her uncomfortably and wringing his hands as if he didn't quite know what to do with them. "If-if you don't mind me saying, that still isn't very honest. And… you could have revealed yourself to me and commanded me to do your will. Why didn't you?Er, Your Highness?"

Zelda's cheeks flushed with shame as she remembered her ignorance. "I didn't want to be Princess Zelda. I didn't want to see what others wanted to me to see—I wanted to see things as they truly are."

"That's very wise of you, Your Highness."

"I told you, you can call me Zelda," she insisted. "I despise being lifted above other people, as if for some reason I was greater than them merely because of where I was born. Greatness must be won. Honestly, the reason I try to escape so often is because of that—because I'm tired of being spoiled rotten and treated like a petty, useless little girl."

A slight smile ghosted Link's lips. "I would have thought the opposite was true because of how you acted this morning. You're far too demanding to be a commoner, Your Highness—er, Zelda. But… I really am sorry about how I acted."

"And I'm sorry for being ignorant and getting you into trouble," Zelda returned, biting her lip.

"And I'm sorry for defending you poorly."

"I'm sorry for leaving you alone with those three brutes."

Link shrugged. "It doesn't matter; I escaped. Now, are we going to sit here apologizing to each other all night?"

Zelda managed a small grin and shook her head. "I thought… perhaps we could start over. You know, redo our first impressions of each other. Perhaps somewhere warmer."

Link nodded slowly, absently rubbing his goose-pimpled arms. "Yeah. One moment." He darted away from her, limping slightly; his feet really were bare, and the ground must have been cold and uneven. But it wasn't long before he returned, holding a slightly-damp bundle of cloth. "This way," he told her, motioning to the rugged old barn some distance away, standing apart from the main house. "Bring your horse."

Zelda nodded obedintly, hurrying over to Rafton and stroking his velvety nose. He let out a low, nervous rumble, ears flicking back and forth uneasily—Link really had frightened the poor beast by jumping out so suddenly. Murmuring soothingly to her horse, Zelda gripped the reins and led him forwards, following the farm boy through the darkness.

The moonlight illuminated ragged white scars twisting across the young man's back, along with a long, narrow gash that looked quite recent, and Zelda shuddered, wondering what had caused them. Remembering how eagerly the farmer, who must have been Artur Senza, had struck Link across the face, she decided that it couldn't have been anything pleasant.

"What's that in your arms?" she asked, trying to raise her thoughts to something more pleasant.

"O-oh," he stammered, ducking his head and not turning back to face her. "It's… my shirt."

Zelda raised an eyebrow. "Why aren't you wearing it?"

"Because I was trying to clean it," he answered hesitantly, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Senza said that my appearance might drive people away from his produce, so he ordered me not to show my face to him again until I looked halfway decent."

"It's difficult to look decent in an old feed bag," Zelda pointed out skeptically.

Link chuckled. "I said as much to him. He… didn't like that very much."

By then they had reached the barn; Zelda followed him inside, releasing a sigh of relief as warmth washed over her from a fire crackling merrily in a simple stone hearth in one corner. Link led her over to that corner, where a pile of old, ratty straw lay discarded. Gesturing for her to sit down, he quickly fetched a few handfuls of alfalfa and presented them to Rafton before spreading his shirt out before the fire and retrieving a thin, ragged blanket that he handed to Zelda. Then he dropped to his knees and bowed his head.

Zelda blinked. "What are you doing?"

"Starting over," Link answered without looking up. "Your Highness, Honorable Princess Zelda, is there anything a lowly farm hand such as myself might be able to do for you?"

"Indeed," she smiled, matching his formal tone of voice. "You may rise, noble lad, and treat me as you would a friend."

Link got to his feet and grimaced ruefully. "I'm afraid I haven't got much practice at that, Your… er, Zelda. I've only ever spoken to animals."

"You're doing fine," Zelda promised. "So… is this where you stay?"

Link nodded hesitantly. "Sorry if it smells bad. There's nothing I can do to fix that."

"Don't worry; it's fine," Zelda assured him. "But… if your master really wanted you to appear halfway decent, why does he make you stay in a place that smells of horse all the time? The smell is bound to rub off, and…"

His face fell and she instantly felt bad. "Personally I enjoy the way horses smell," she said quickly. "It's a natural scent, not like some of the disgusting perfumes I'm forced to wear."

A smile twisted his lips. "You sound like the opposite of Calgatha—Mr. Senza's daughter. She's awful—she likes fancy dresses and perfumes and makeup and nothing else. She's insufferable."

Zelda averted her eyes. "I hope I'm not," she hinted.

Link shook his head forcefully. "Not at all. You… you're fun. I'm glad you came up to me today."

Zelda smiled, her cheeks warming in a self-conscious blush. "I only wish I hadn't been so… demanding, as you put it. Ignorance is the worst sort of trap one can be held within, if you ask me."

Link nodded slowly, his eyes narrowed as he considered her words. "Well… that's what experience is for, isn't it? To get us out of that trap."

Zelda liked the way he said 'us,' even though he most likely hadn't even thought about that when he said it. "I doubt I'll be able to have any more of those learning experiences. I've managed to escape ten times now, but it's only a matter of time before my father learns how I get out, confiscates the last of my disguises, and confines me to my bedroom for the rest of my life."

Link studied her with sincere concern in his glimmering blue eyes. "You'll get out again, Pri—er, Zelda. You were smart enough to escape so many times—I think you can do it again. You're here now, aren't you?"

Zelda nodded slowly. "And I almost got caught. It was only because of you that I wasn't."

"Then perhaps we can arrange something," Link decided. "Perhaps we can meet by the crossroads. Can you get out at night the same way you did just now?"

"I… I think so," Zelda mused, mentally running through her escape route. "Yes… that might work!"

Link grinned. "Excellent. How about… a week from now?"

Zelda nodded. "Thank you," she smiled, getting to her feet. Link rose with her, his eyes sparkling with contentment. "But… I suppose I'd better get back now. If I'm discovered missing, Father will have a fit."

"Good luck, then," Link said, walking with her as she led Rafton to the door.

"Thank you," she said again. "I'll see you soon."

Then, pleased with the way the night had turned out, she began the ride back to Castle Town.

No one had noticed her absence.


	3. Chapter 3: Nightmares

**Nightmares**

Link writhed in his sleep, muscles tightly coiled as sweat drenched his body. " _No… No…"_ he whispered over and over again through gritted teeth.

 _A massive creature—a demon, with a mane of fire going down its black-scaled back. It roared in agony and faded away into a vaporous black cloud that seeped into a long blade grasped in the hands of a boy clad in the green of the fields._

 _Yet the creature clawed its way free, taking the form of a green-skinned man with orange hair—a Gerudo. Another boy struck him down, but he rose back up with fire in his eyes. Again, thrice more, he was brought back down until it seemed he could never come back._

 _But a female Geruda clad in white emerged from a blizzard high atop a mountain peak. She stretched forth her hand and the green-skinned man appeared once again._

 _This time, the green-clad boy did not appear._

* * *

Link awakened with a startled cry, his heart pounding violently.

Ganondorf. He'd dreamed of Ganondorf coming back from the dead.

"Impossible," he protested softly to the darkness pressing down upon him. " _Impossible."_ He clung to Kattha's comforting words, gripping his head in his hands. Ganondorf was dead; he wasn't coming back and never would. _Impossible._

Trembling, drowning in perspiration, he lay back down and curled into a ball. He found himself unable to sleep the rest of the night.

"Wake up!"

Link yelped in surprise as Senza shook him violently by the shoulders. "S-sorry, sir," he stammered, cheeks burning in embarrassment. "I… couldn't sleep last night."

"I can see that," Senza grouched, eyes narrowed. "D'yeh want to be paid or not?"

"It won't happen again," Link assured him, bending to lift his cleaning tools once more and finish polishing a supposedly eons-old golden bird statuette.

"Careful with that," Senza snapped, turning to walk away. "It's a family heirloom, passed down through the Royal Family and given to my great-great-great-great-grandfather as a reward for his services to the hero of his time."

Any other day Link would have snorted in derision, laughing off Senza's insistence that the heroes of legend had existed. But the dreams he'd had the previous night stifled any comment he might have made.

Instead he begged Din in his mind for the energy to last the day—the nightmares had frightened him more than he wished to admit, and he truly hadn't gotten a wink of sleep ever since awakening in a cold sweat. He rubbed his eyes wearily and continued with his chores—dusting the furniture, watering houseplants, tidying the bedrooms, and sweeping and mopping the floors. Calgatha kicked over his bucket of soapy water as she passed; Link stuck a small tack on her padded rocking chair and made a face at her when her back was turned.

Around mid-morning he finished with the housework and hurried outside, loading more pumpkins, squash, corn, grain, and various vegetables into the cart. Then he hitched Epona into the harness and, remembering the fight he'd gotten into the day before, snatched an old, abandoned shepherd's staff from the barn—he'd last used it years ago, when Senza bought a herd of sheep on a whim. The sheep were long gone, but the staff remained, and Link felt confident that if he found himself threatened again, it would protect him better than his fists could.

Trying to dispel the uneasiness swimming in his soul from the nightmares he'd had, he whistled an uplifting tune, urging Epona into a swift trot and heading back to Kakariko.

The village was just as peaceful and cheery as it had been the day before. Cuccu strutted through the streets; young children chased after them delightedly, too innocent to know how deadly the birds could be when riled. Link smiled ruefully and guided Epona back to Senza's empty stall, releasing her from the cart and beginning to announce his wares just as he had the day before.

A tall, imposing woman stepped up to him an hour or so after midday passed. Link was instantly stunned by her fiery orange eyes—with her white hair and facial makeup, she could only be a Sheikah, and the dark blue clothes and brass armor marked her as one of the High Sheikah sworn to protect members of the Royal Family. He gulped, his thoughts instantly turning to Zelda. _Did she get caught? Will I be imprisoned?_

He realized then that he had been staring and cleared his throat apologetically. "May I help you?" he asked politely.

"That remains to be seen," she responded solemnly, studying the produce displayed. "I will take your pumpkins—all of them."

Link tried to hide the surprise that jolted his soul. "R-right. That'll be—"

She dropped a massive bag of rupees in the cart and his eyes went wide.

"Uh, ma'am, I think you've paid me too much," he said, tearing his eyes away from the bulging sack.

But the Sheikah and the pumpkins had vanished entirely. Startled, Link stood as tall as he could, craning his neck to scan the crowd milling about the streets.

He caught a glimpse of sunlight glinting off of metal armor and saw her dart into a shadowed alleyway; offering a swift command to Epona to watch the cart he grabbed the shepherd's staff and tore after the woman, gripping the bag of rupees in his free hand and darting between the oblivious market-goers on quick, nimble feet. He dashed into the alleyway, feeling the cold of the cobblestones on his bare, calloused feet, and looked around.

There was no sign of her; once again she had vanished, seemingly into thin air. Link looked around, uncertain, more than a little confused.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the sun flashing off of something bright. Link sprinted towards it, shouting, "Hey! Wait!"

He followed the flashing metal through the village, away from the crowded market streets and past lines of laundry, around sharp twists and turns, never seeing anything more but a fleeting glance of shining white. The farther he went, the less crowded the streets; the low murmuring of voices and lilting music of the market faded away until only his panting breaths and the slap of skin on stone reached his long ears. Despite the brisk autumn air he could feel sweat tracing a path down his chest and between his shoulder blades; his grip on the leathery pouch of rupees the Sheikah had abandoned with him grew loose, his fingers damp with perspiration. With each swift inhalation he could taste the crispness in the air; the scent dry, crushed leaves and musky old plant life, ever-present even in the midst of a large city like Kakariko.

 _I'll have to turn back,_ Link realized, his heart sinking; Kattha had instilled within him a deep sense of right and wrong, and he liked to think that despite his inferior status, he was a good, honest person. He hated to let the Sheikah cheat herself out of a fair deal, no matter what her motivation had been. But the longer he spent searching for her, the longer his cart went without supervision. And though Epona could be quite fierce, he could never be certain if she had actually understood his command.

Suddenly he rounded a corner and there she was, trapped against the city wall. But Link frowned; the woman he had been following wasn't the Sheikah. The sun had not been glinting off of armor, but off of long, flowing white robes, with pale pink and dark blue designs embroidered at the hems of the sleeves and the neckline. With long red hair tied back in a ponytail, slanting amber eyes, and a hooked, pointed nose; bedecked in jewelry that matched her eyes and orange skin, she was a Gerudo.

"Ah," Link said. "I'm so sorry—I thought you were someone else." Embarrassed, he turned to leave.

"Wait."

The sharp, imperious voice froze him in his tracks. Slowly he faced her again, puzzled. "I have to get back to my cart…"

She lifted an eyebrow, clearly uninterested. "I did not expect to be followed," she murmured coolly. "What is your purpose, Hylian?"

"I wanted to return money to someone who paid too much," Link answered hesitantly, backing away and turning to go. "I'm going to leave now…"

There was a sudden whirring sound and a flare of pain erupted in his side. Unable to suppress a stunned cry, Link looked down. His head swam; the bloody tip of a throwing knife protruded from his side, glinting in the sunlight. With wide eyes he turned to face the woman, who held an identical dagger in her hands.

"I did not give you permission to leave," she smiled, lip curled in a sneer.

Link's throat tightened and his heart hammered. _What do I do?_ He didn't know if he should try to remove the knife or leave it in; it felt as if it were splitting him in half, and the pain only worsened with each breath he tried to take. Cautiously, grimacing when the movement caused a spike in agony, he raised his staff defensively in front of him. "What do you want?"

"Hand over those rupees and give me your name."

"I am Link," he answered with a groan, drawing himself as tall as he could; the Gerudo's face went pale. "And these aren't yours, so I'm not giving them to you."

"Then I might as well kill you," she shrugged nonchalantly, but Link wondered if he saw fear in her eyes. She raised her other knife and hurled it towards him.

Instinct kicked in. As if time had slowed, Link could see the knife coming at him, end over end. He raised his staff and knocked it away.

A dangerous gleam entered the Gerudo's eyes. But all at once there were screams and shouts coming from the market streets, along with the garbled grunts and screeches of monsters. Link's throat went dry.

The Gerudo smiled darkly. "It matters not now. Those beasts will destroy you and everyone else in this village. The Order will rise."

"What do you mean? What's going on?" Link demanded, grimacing as the knife burned in his side. He thrust his staff forward, trying to push past the pain.

The woman only smirked haughtily and raised her hands. The knife on the ground flew back to her grasp, and Link yelled and doubled over in flaming agony as the blade in his gut was magically wrenched out, jaggedly tearing his flesh as it, too, returned to the Gerudo's hand. He grit his teeth, eyes tightly closed as he clutched his side, trembling as sticky warm wetness soaked his skin and clothes.

"Get out of here," the woman sneered, her lip curled in disgust. "Go find my monsters and have them put you out of your misery."

And she whirled around, climbing easily up the stone wall despite the cumbersome white robes billowing around her limbs. In a matter of moments, she was gone.

Link forced himself to swallow tightly, his heart hammering hard as he pressed his hands to his side, feeling the blood and warmth drain from his body in the crisp autumn air. This was far worse than being thrashed; the pain did not diminish, and nausea permeated his being as crimson life-liquid spilled from him, abandoning him as he leaned heavily upon his staff.

But the screams from the market street were growing louder.

Link bit his lip, shivering. It would take him at least an hour to return to Senza's estate to treat his wound. And… glancing down at the blood staining his clothes and spilling from the ragged tear in his skin, he wasn't entirely certain if he would live until then.

Grim determination filled his soul, pushing the pain aside. _So… I might as well try to take down some of those monsters with me,_ he decided, letting his staff fall to the ground as he tore several strips from his apron, wadding some of the cloth into a ball and shoving it at his side, grunting in pain as he tied it in place. Makeshift bandage complete, he snatched up his staff and limped back the way he had come as quickly as he could. The fire in his side burned hotter with every step he took but he clenched his teeth, forcing himself faster and faster until he was running over the cobblestones, bare feet smacking against the ground, perspiration shuddering down his trembling frame.

Coughing slightly, he emerged at last into the wide central path going through the town in time to see three towering moblins crash through the city gates. Their tiny heads sat atop massive flabby chests and shoulders; their leopard-spotted trousers were stretched tight around their burly legs. With leather helmets upon their brows and wooden shields and spears gripped in their fists they stomped towards the market-goers, who had been rounded up and herded into the center of the road, surrounded by a ring of red bokoblins armed with scimitars. Link's fleeing blood ran cold—it was to be a massacre.

He moistened his lips and, forcing himself not to back down, approached the horde of monsters. As he drew near he snatched a sharp tool from an open blacksmith's stall, snatching up a kitchen knife and using the remnants of his apron to tightly fasten it to the end of his staff—now he, too, had a spear.

The moblins marched towards him. Link forced himself to run once more, dashing to meet the beasts and jumping as high as he could at the last second, switching his 'spear' to his left hand— _Go for the neck,_ he thought; it had always worked with turkeys and the occasional cow. He caught hold of the first moblin's shield and thrust his weapon deep into its fleshy neck. Its eyes rolled back in its head and it groaned, falling backwards, dead almost instantly.

Link was totally unprepared for the blow that followed. One of the moblins swung its spear wildly from side to side, hitting him and sending him flying and skidding backwards along the smooth cobblestones. He lay still for several moments, winded. When he could breathe again at last, pain shot through his lungs; feeling his chest in shock, he found several swollen lumps protruding from his ribcage, right where the side of the moblin's spear had collided with his chest.

 _I'm definitely dead,_ he thought with a grimace, forcing himself to his feet despite the agony in his gashed side and the aching fire now blossoming in his chest. A scream from behind told him that the bokoblins were growing more aggressive; swiftly he retrieved his weapon. _H_ _urry!_ With a yell he charged the next moblin, diving to the side and rolling to his feet. Once again time seemed to slow, and he thrust his spearhead into the back of the creature's neck. Time reverted to its normal flow; Link faced the final moblin. Its tiny golden eyes were fixed upon him and it gripped its spear and shield protectively in front of its chest.

Link forced himself to wait, breathing heavily, his knees slightly bent in preparation for anything he would have to do. He planned to let the creature make the first move and give him the opening he needed.

At last the moblin raised its arm back to thrust its spear, leaving itself open for an attacked. Link swung his weapon into its exposed neck and it gurgled disgustingly before crumpling, dead, to the ground

Link turned to face the watching Bokoblins, trying to calm his pained, rapid breathing and force a mask of impassiveness onto his features despite the blood still seeping from his throbbing side. He inhaled as deeply as he could, holding his spear loosely in his sweating hands and facing the bokoblins surrounding the crowd of villagers. They were eyeing him warily, grunting uneasily in their nonsensical language.

"Come and get me," Link growled, regarding them through narrowed eyes. "Come on, you cowards! I'm a nobody from the fields—how hard can I be? Come and fight!" He hoped they could understand his words, hoped that they would leave the villagers alone and take him instead.

Link was not a warrior. Speed and agility had given him the edge in the battle with the moblins, which were renowned as slow and clumsy. But bokoblins were quick and light, and they were armed with broad scimitars instead of spears. _I'm going to die,_ he realized, swallowing tightly. His life would be over in the next few moments.

The bokoblins must have seen the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes that marked him as easy prey. As a group they advanced on him, abandoning the petrified group of market-goers to face the lone boy defying them.

Link swallowed tightly. "Run!" Then he sprinted towards the bokoblins and broke through their ranks, spinning around so that he stood between them and the villagers; he glanced over his shoulder and saw the frightened faces of men, women, and children still regarding him with gratitude and fear and uncertainty. "Go!" he exclaimed. "Get your loved ones to safety!"

That hit them. The gathered villagers dispersed quickly, running from the monsters in the street. The bokoblins screeched angrily, jumping up and down and jabbing fingers at Link as their slow-witted minds processed what the farm boy had just done. One of them swung its blade and split his spear cleanly in half; Link yelped in surprise and jumped backwards instinctively, looking at the broken twig and the discarded kitchen knife at his feet. His stomach tightened and he turned back to the smirking bokoblins gathering around him.

A scimitar whooshed towards him. Link ducked and snatched the sharp knife from the ground before leaping back to his feet, slitting the throat of the nearest bokoblin. In the next instant fire erupted in his back and he cried out, falling to his knees from the force of the blow as more blood spilled from a massive, newly-opened gash on his back. With a groan of agony he forced himself to his feet nad hurled his knife into a bokoblin's forehead just as a blade nicked his right arm. Link grimaced, pulled his knife free before the dead monster hit the ground, and threw it into the next bokoblin.

Three remained. And three were too many. Link was pale, shivering, and drenched in perspiration and blood. He couldn't even stand straight any longer. The bokoblins watched him as he retrieved his weapon, pointing three-fingered hands at him and squealing with derisive laughter. He was as good as dead now, and they knew it.

But Link wasn't about to give up. Despite the pain he drew himself to his full height and slit the throat of his nearest attacker. He heard a blade whistling down towards him and ducked, and once more time slowed, allowing him to swiftly kill the bokoblin who had swung the blade before facing the one remaining monster in the road.

Like the coward that it was, the creature dropped its scimitar as if burned and bolted out of town.

The adrenaline faded from his limbs. Exhaustion and raw, flaming pain set in, hammering at his beaten body. He felt cold and sick; darkness gnawed at the corners of his vision and he shuddered. Staggering, he tried to take a step, but the ground tilted violently beneath him and everything faded away...

* * *

 _He stood in the mountains, cold, lost, and hungry. His wrists were chained; his neck was chained; his ankles were chained, all to a freezing stone pillar at his back. Snow was falling heavily, and the wind roared in his ears. He couldn't see more than a foot in front of him._

 _Suddenly a gust of wind blew the swirling flakes away and he again saw the white-clad Gerudo. The one from his first nightmare. The one that had stabbed him at the market._

 _Link saw her there, in the snow-drenched mountains suffocated by cold; she raised her hand, and from the shreds of shadow a green-skinned man with fiery orange hair coalesced through the dancing flakes, and darkness covered the world._


	4. Chapter 4: Visitors

**Visitors**

Zelda gazed at the glorious stained-glass windows brightly illuminated by the golden rays of the afternoon sun. The colorful images crafted there depicted scenes from the old myths, some of them quite violent—one displayed a broad, dark-clad man with a sword impaling his forehead. Others were rather peaceful, showing the benevolent dragons of legend and mysterious birds bearing riders through the sky.

Zelda scowled. _I thought one was supposed to_ learn _from history, not repeat its mistakes,_ she thought angrily, trying to drown out the drone of Master Kaepo's voice as he lectured on and on about the so-called "duties" of a proper princess. _They said that my ancestors were chosen by Nayru, Goddess of wisdom, for their great intelligence and creativity and… well,_ wisdom. _Yet clearly they weren't quite as wise as they seemed—they still ended up imprisoned or sacrificed or making decisions that could have led to war. What happened?_

She grit her teeth, forcing herself not to run from the library, forcing herself to remain calm and poised despite the boredom gnawing at her soul. Fancy dresses and impeccable posture and all of the other things Master Kaepo and her father thought were necessary in a future Queen of Hyrule were utterly useless, in her opinion. _Now, learning to fight…_ that _would be_ useful. _That way, if monsters or demons try to kidnap me the way they did my ancestors, I'd easily be able to foil their attempts._

"Dear Princess, are you even listening to me?" Kaepo queried, snapping his fingers in front of her face.

"Of course," Zelda growled, turning her full attention back to him.

He quirked a bushy brow at her. "Then please recite to me what I just said."

Zelda resisted the urge to smirk. "A princess must be elegant, graceful, poised, and dainty. She must be solemn and steadfast in speech and must have a solid understanding of politics and history. She must be kind, but firm when necessary. And she must _always_ remember that she was born to be a Queen—not an explorer, not a farmhand, not a warrior…"

She closed her eyes wearily. How could she gain a full knowledge of politics without going in among her people to see how different policies and decrees affected their lives?

"Very good," Kaepo smiled approvingly. "Then let's move on, shall we? When attending a formal banquet, do not take too much food, but do not be disrespectful, either. Use your knife only when…"

Zelda felt her hands curl into fists beneath her desk. _Think happy thoughts,_ she counselled herself, measuring her breaths and trying to calm her livid mind—this was _torture._ Sheer _torture._

She wondered what her father would think if he knew she'd been talking to Link. The boy was hardly more than a slave and he seemed horribly aware of the fact, yet she had insisted that he treat her as an equal. _Are class structures really as strict as he believes?_ she wanted to know; of course, at the top of the social ladder, she wouldn't be aware of that.

Suddenly the doors to the library burst open. King Daphne-Cole strode inside, Impa following close at his heels.

"You cannot be serious!" he exclaimed. "We are _not_ sending a _child_ all over the world. He'd be eaten alive!"

"He has great courage," Impa responded, cool as always. "And he is resourceful, courageous, kind, and fit. I daresay there is no one better for the task."

"Fit? You call him _fit?_ Those monsters shredded him!"

"He won that battle," Impa responded coldly. "With no armor, no true weapons, and no formal training, he killed three moblins and four bokoblins."

"He's too young," Daphne-Cole glowered, striding over to a bookshelf bending under the weight of thick leather tomes with dog-eared, yellowed pages. "It's bound to be in here somewhere… none of the other Chosen Heros were so young…"

Zelda watched him out of the corner of her eye, intrigued. _A_ child _killed three moblins and four bokoblins? Without_ any _training? He truly must be chosen of the Goddesses…_

"Aha!" Daphne-Cole declared, jabbing his finger at an open page of the book he'd retrieved. "Hero of Time—his age is unknown, but he was _at least_ seventeen. Hero of Sky—seventeen _and a half._ Hero of Twilight—age nineteen."

"The Sheikah records state that the Hero of Twilight was seventeen," Impa corrected. "And you are forgetting the Hero of Wind, who was only twelve years old when he embarked on his journey. This "child," as you refer to him, seems around sixteen years old. The Heroes of Legend were often mere boys, Your Highness."

Zelda felt a smirk twist her features. Her father would _hate_ being proven wrong; she could see his cheeks reddening beneath his thick graying beard.

"But what if he never recovers from his wounds?" the King blustered. "They were quite severe, after all."

"As soon as you allow it, I will ride for the Lost Woods north of Kakariko Village to catch a healing fairy. He saved the entire city, killing seven monsters before I managed to escape my meeting with the mayor. I couldn't leave him to die."

"Doesn't he have anyone else to take care of him?"

Impa shook her head. "He was dressed in rags and sold harvest foods; I conjecture that he works as a servant on a nearby farm."

Zelda's blood ran cold at the description. _Dressed in rags? Sold food in Kakariko Village? He couldn't be Link, could he?_

"Well, does he have parents? What is his name?"

"I do not know, my King; he was unconscious when I reached him. The villagers had fled; there wa sno one I could see able to help him."

Daphne-Cole released a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples wearily. Zelda's heart pounded faster— _What if it_ is _Link? It sounds like he's_ dying! _Oh, Farore, please don't take him!_

"Very well," the King muttered at last. "Fetch that fairy—I want to know who this boy is. Once again, you have convinced me of your arguments; I wonder sometimes why the Sheikah have never ruled Hyrule."

Impa offered a slight smile. "It is not power that we seek," she assured him before darting out of the room.

Zelda watched her leave, her heart in her throat. If it was Link, then there was no doubt that he would live with the aid of a healing fairy, but still… if he was here, in the castle, she wanted to see him. To know for herself that he would live. Completely ignoring Master Kaepo and his lecture by now, she got to her feet and approached her father hesitantly as he continued to pore over the worn pages of the ancient tome in his hands.

"Erm… Father," she murmured, trying to keep the concern out of her voice. "This boy you speak of… you think he has the potential to be one of the Chosen Heroes?"

Daphne-Cole nodded gravely, raising his eyes to regard her solemnly. "Indeed. If a need for such a hero arises."

"May I visit him?" Zelda asked anxiously. "After all, in the old legends, the Heroes usually worked together with a Princess of the realm…"

"You're not going _anywhere_ with him," Daphne-Cole growled, wagging a stern finger at her. "But… I suppose there would be no harm in you meeting him now, while he is unconscious. He's in the lower levels—the servants' quarters, the first room on the left. May he serve as a reminder to you, to teach you not to venture beyond the castle walls again."

Zelda was gone before he finished speaking, walking as fast as she could while still trying to maintain an air of relaxation and poise to keep her father from thinking suspicious thoughts. She strode confidently down the hall, past gilded frames of rulers long since dead; past tapestries of dragons and crimson birds; past glorious murals depicting the battles of the legends in vibrant glory. Heart jumping in her throat, she swept across the polished wooden floor of the ballroom and hurried down a long set of grand stairs, making her way to the lowest floors of the castles until at last she reached the dimly-lit stone corridors allotted to the servants and burst into the room her father had indicated. Her heart stopped for a moment.

There was a boy lying upon the onl bed, his features illuminated by flickering torchlight. It was Link, and he looked like he was at death's door. His skin was pale and glistened with sweat; his bare chest was hardly moving at all, and two irregular bumps rose from his chest—broken ribs. Blood stained a bandage at his side and on his arm and there was a faint trace of blood beneath him as well, evidence of another wound on his back. His face was tense and his golden hair damp with perspiration; his features were tightened in a grimace of agony even in unconsciousness.

Zelda felt cold inside, looking at him. Had it really been only last night that she had spoken with him, and he had been safe and smiling and friendly? Now he seemed to by dying; his body was plagued by grievous injuries that he had gained in battle to save the villagers of Kakariko.

 _A Chosen Hero,_ her father had said. Tears pricked her eyes and she reached out hesitantly, taking his cold, clammy hands in her own and stroking her thumb across his knuckles.

She heard footsteps, and turned to face her father as he entered. There were no more charades; with her new friend—one of very few in her life—in such a grave state, she couldn't muster the defiance to lie and to hide.

"You know him?" Daphne-Cole asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "This isn't just another result of your curiosity?"

Zelda nodded slowly. "This is the boy that defended me yesterday. I told you about him."

The King's brow furrowed. "The _same_ boy? ...Very interesting. He truly is exceptionally courageous…"

"His name is Link."

Her father's eyes widened abruptly. "Link? Really?"

Zelda grimaced and nodded. "Like the Heroes of the legends. But… there are many now that carry that name."

"Yes, but how many have his courage?" he mused darkly, eyes narrowed. "A hero named Link always arises when great evil threatens this land. We have now a courageous boy with the Hero's name. But where is the evil? It cannot be the Gerudic Order… they have what they want; we have had peace for sixteen years…"

Muttering to himself, he walked away, leaving Zelda wide-eyed and uncertain behind him.

* * *

Konabe seethed with anger, furiously scrapping the dried blood from her enchanted knife, allowing the flakes to gather in a pile on the stone floor of her mountain fortress.

That insolent boy had single-handedly demolished her plans. He had followed her, preventing her from reaching the secret caverns below Kakariko Village that held what she needed. And she had stabbed him, of course—he was an insolent pest and deserved punishment. But then he had told her his name and she knew she could take no other chances—she threw her other knife aimed to kill. And he had knocked it away almost effortlessly, despite the injury she had inflicted upon him.

Then, of course, he had rushed to the market streets and confronted the monsters she had sent to initiate a bloody massacre, and because of his actions one of the villagers had had the time to flee to the guardsmen standing around the mayor's home—and the entrance to the secret caverns—and inform them that the city was under attack. Most of the soldiers stayed behind to guard the entrance, and the others raced to aid the young farm boy in his battle, but by the time they arrived, the monsters were dead, and the boy was nowhere to be found.

Konabe had planned for her forces to kill all in their path, eventually clearing her a free path to the entrance of the secret caves. Instead, the monsters failed to kill _anyone;_ she had not been able to claim her prize, and the boy… the boy with the name of the Heroes single-handedly fought off eight monsters with nothing but a wooden staff and a kitchen knife, despite being wounded; he had saved the lives of everyone in that market street and countless others that may have gotten in the monsters' way.

She narrowed her eyes upon the lone bokoblin survivor of the ill-fated attack. IT was on its knees, luminous eyes wide, gibbering in its nonsensical language in an unmistakable plea for mercy.

Konabe's lip curled. She flung her second knife, the one that the farm boy had knocked away, into its chest and turned away as it died, turning back to the knife still stained with the youth's dried blood. She pursed her lips thoughtfully.

 _His name is Link._

Her gut twisted.

 _He has the courage to face monsters thrice his size with a stick and no training._

She began to pace, the heels of her steel-toed shoes clacking on the stone ground. It seemed too fateful to ignore, too meaningful to be a coincidence. And if indeed he had the spirit of a Hero, he would try to stop her plans. She could not allow that to happen; she could not allow him to spoil this grand opportunity to bring the Gerudo and their allies to power.

Konabe ran a finger along the edge of the bloodied blade. "Show me his dark side," she whispered, red light trailing from her fingertips. "Show me his faults."

The knife turned to an ominous, lackluster shade of black, and as if time itself were flowing backwards, the dried blood became liquid once more.

" _Resentment… for he who calls himself 'master' instead of 'father.'"_ The boy's voice, in a harsh, ragged whisper, echoed softly through the room as the first drop of blood splashed to the floor. Konabe's heart sped up.

" _Loneliness… for she that loved me as a son has abandoned me…"_

A second drop of blood fell to the ground.

" _Hatred for the man who caused her death. Hatred for those that killed my parents."_ Two more scarlet drops splattered against the flagstones.

" _Regret that I am a lesser person… that I am_ owned. _Sadness, for I am alone and uncared for. Anger, directed at myself, because of how rude I was to the Princess, because of my stubbornness and pride…"_

The blood began to spread outwards, creeping across the flagstones. Then it began to darken and rise upward, forming feet, calves, knees, and thighs. A waist; then a torso and shoulders and arms. And at last the head—face and hair and long, pointed ears.

Link stood there, eyes closed, clad in in a simple tunic, leggings, and a limp, pointed hat. His skin was the color of nightly shadows, without a trace of warmth or color, and his hair was a cold, snowy white. His eyelids fluttered open and his eyes glowed a dark, malevolent crimson.

Konabe smiled at the youth. "Dark Link," she whispered, and the boy nodded, bowing his head. "Welcome to the Gerudic Order."

He sank to one knee, head still lowered submissively. "My Lady My will is yours to command."

She knelt before him, gripping his chin and forcing him to look her in the eyes. "Kill the one whose face you wear. Bring me his body."

She thrust the knife into his hand and gestured to the dark chamber's exit, to the torchlit hall beyond. _Destroy this new hero before he can destroy my hard work._


	5. Chapter 5: Legends

**Legends**

Link awakened blearily, his cognizance returning with the speed of an elderly Zora king. The first sensation that filled his darkened mind was comfort, which was stunning to him, since the last thing he remembered was pain and fatigue assaulting his body. He was lying on something that felt like it must have been a cloud, and the cloth resting lightly on his skin was soft and warm. _Am I dead?_

Then the pain set in, dull and throbbing, but not nearly as agonizing as it had been before. He couldn't help the grimace that twisted his features, and yet… the discomfort plaguing his body did not match the wounds he knew he had sustained.

There were low, hushed voices murmuring in his ears, so soft that he could barely hear them. They could have belonged to people, or they could have merely been the rushing of falling water, but that made no sense.

Slowly he blinked his gritty eyes open and squinted in confusion. Instead of the wooden rafters and thatched straw of Senza's barn, there was smooth stone above him, lit by flickering torches. _Where am I?_

Wincing as newly-healed, sensitive skin stretched and pulled, he pushed himself into a sitting position, looking down in surprise at the loose, comfortable nightshirt he wore. _I definitely wasn't wearing this before…_

The low murmuring had stopped, and Link turned to take in his surroundings. His throat went dry; the Sheikah woman from the marketplace leaned casually against the doorframe of the small stone chamber, and beside her… _beside her…_

Link's jaw dropped before he could stop himself. Quickly he flung himself out of bed despite the twinges in his side and back and sank to his knees, head bowed submissively.

The King. The King of Hyrule was in his room.

"Please rise, lad," the King requested gently. "It's Link, isn't it?"

Not trusting himself to speak, Link nodded slowly and got to his feet. _Zelda got caught! The King knows she saw me against his will—he's going to kill me! I'm going to die?_

"Have a seat," the King invited him. "I'd wager you're still recovering from your battle. Fairies are marvelous creatures, but they aren't perfect."

Link hastened to obey, understanding all at once why he didn't hurt as bad as he thought he should—a fairy had healed him. He swallowed tightly. "Why am I here, and not back at…"

"In exchange for your heroism in defending Kakariko Village, I paid your debts to Artur Senza," the King answered. "You belong to no man."

Link couldn't help but sink to his knees again; sudden weakness that had nothing to do with his injuries overcame him. "Y-your Majesty, I—I don't… surely I don't deserve this…"

"Indeed," the Sheikah woman cut in sharply, her voice cold and calculating. "There is a certain favor we require of you in exchange."

" _Impa,"_ the King grumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. "You owe us nothing, lad. However… we'd like to first ask you for any information you may have regarding the attack."

Link nodded slowly and explained about how the Sheikah—Impa—had overpaid him, and he had tried to follow her, but instead ended up cornering a white-clad Gerudo woman. He went on to describe how she had stabbed him and the events that followed.

"So the woman seemed to know about this attack before it happened?" the King asked.

"Well… when we heard screams, she said that there were monsters in the village, even though we couldn't see any from where we were. And she referred to them as if she owned them, or… commanded them." Sickening dread swam in his stomach as he began to realize the implications of such a statement.

The King leaned forward, eyes narrowed as he stroked his beard. "A Gerudo clad in white robes… wearing the amber jewelry of a ruler… she must have been Konabe, High Chieftess of the Gerudic Order."

Link's insides grew cold, as if he'd swallowed a fistful of snow.

Kattha had told him that the Gerudic Order was responsible for his parents' deaths. They were the reason he was an orphan.

Oblivious to Link's rising anger, the King pressed onward. "Therefore the Gerudic Order was behind the attack on Kakariko."

"Why?" Link exclaimed, his voice loud and tight with fury. "It's so far from their lands—and even if they _had_ conquered it, what benefit could it have been?"

"There is only one reason the Gerudic Order would want that city," Impa murmured, her dark face a shade whiter. She exchanged a meaningful glance with the King.

Link gulped. "What? What is it?"

"Have you heard the legend of the Triforce?" the King asked abruptly. "At the dawn of history, the three Golden Goddesses Din, Nayru, and Farore descended to our world. Din carved the mountains and canyons, sculpting out the landforms that make up our world. Nayru poured out her wisdom and established order, and Farore created the life forms that inhabit this land."

Link nodded. "I know this one. Their labors complete, the Goddesses left behind the Triforce—three sacred triangles representing power, courage, and wisdom. Only one with a balance of all three can claim it; if anyone else tries to take it, it will split into three and reside within the souls of three people, each portraying one of those virtues. But… it's just a story, isn't it?"

The King looked uneasy. Impa took over. "The legends speak of a great evil that resides within this land, eternal and undying. If people knew that such evil was, in fact, real… they would live lives of panic and fear, forever wondering if the evil would rear its foul head in their lifetime."

Link tried to swallow and found that he had no saliva. "So… the legends… are real, then?" He remembered listening to Kattha's tales, asking her with wide-eyed terror if they were true.

Impa nodded gravely. "Centuries ago, the Royal Family and the Sheikah in their service decided to hide all evidence that the escapades of the Demon King and the Chosen Hero had ever really happened, to prevent the fear and panic that took the people whenever evil strengthened in the land. Thus far, we have been successful, but… regardless, all of the legends, all of the stories you've ever been told, are true."

"And how does this relate to Kakariko?" Link asked, trying and failing to quell the uneasiness stirring in his insides.

Impa's eyes glinted a dangerous bloodred. "If you speak a word of what follows to anyone, I will have your tongue cut out and you will die a slow, painful death," she hissed. "This information is crucial to protecting the kingdom."

Link gulped, and the King rubbed a weary hand over his eyes. "Enough threats, Impa," he muttered. "He saved my daughter, and all of that village. We can trust him."

The Sheikah's narrowed eyes clearly revealed her uncertainty. "Very well," she growled, drawing herself taller. "Far beneath Kakariko Village there is an ancient, secret cavern. Within…" Impa hesitated. "Sire, I cannot go on. Not until this boy proves his worthiness."

The King threw down his hands in exasperation. "For the love of Nayru! What more must he do?! Must I tell him myself?"

"Try to see reason," the Sheikah implored him. "We must not reveal this just yet." She turned her burning gaze back on Link. "It suffices me to say that crucial information is hidden in Kakariko. Information that could alter the course of our lives, and perhaps the lives of those to come."

"Information that has something to do with the Triforce?" Link guessed, wincing when Impa glared at him.

"Yes," the King cut in before his advisor could say anything else. "Konabe seems to have made an attempt to steal that knowledge. And if she had succeeded, she may have been worthy of the Triforce. After all, she is quite cunning, and powerful—"

"But not courageous," Link murmured, remembering his encounter with her. "She was content to let her monsters fight her battles for her. That is cowardice. And… before, when she conquered the east… she had her monsters slaughter civilians, not soldiers, and she held the children captive in exchange for secession. She is cunning… but not brave."

"Perhaps you're right," the King mused, stroking his beard, and even Impa nodded in agreement. "She isn't worthy of the Triforce. So… why would she want it?"

Understanding dawned upon Impa's stoic features. "She wants to find it, but not take it… she wants to offer it to someone who _is_ worthy."

"And who would that be?" Link asked nervously, his stomach twisting into an uncomfortable knot.

"It would have to be the most powerful, most wise, and most courageous being in all the land," the King murmured. "And that is truly rare."

"There is one who has historically been able to wield the complete Triforce," Impa pointed out, her voice hard and solemn.

The King's tanned face went suddenly pale. "But… that can't be… he's dead… he was killed five hundred years ago…"

"He has been resurrected before," Impa reminded him. "With the blood of a Chosen Hero, or the blood of a Princess with the blood of the Goddess Hylia, or even a mixture of both. It isn't impossible."

"Who?" Link demanded, his heart sinking as he realized that he might not want to hear the answer.

"Ganondorf," came the King's miserable response. He lowered his head in his hands. "Link… you possess the traits of every Chosen Hero before you. Such a boy only ever arises to conquer a great evil rising in the land. That, and Konabe's attempt to gather… _information…_ about the Triforce, which she is unable to claim for herself, leads me to believe that evil is stirring once again in Hyrule."

"She may indeed be planning to resurrect Ganondorf," Impa agreed, eyes narrowed in anger. "They share a common goal… both want power over this land; both want the destruction of the Hylian race—the race of the Chosen Heroes; the race that carries the blood of the Goddess."

"I can't imagine they would enjoy sharing power," the King barked out a harsh, humorless laugh. "Ganondorf will kill her in the end. She's a fool to think otherwise."

"She might think that offering him the Triforce and resurrecting him in the first place will convince him not to," Link pointed out. He inhaled deeply and met the King's blue gaze. "Your Majesty, I want to help. What would you have me do?"

King Daphne-Cole smiled grimly. "I want you to find the Triforce and claim it before Konabe or Ganondorf do. I want you to stop Ganondorf from being resurrected, and I want you to use the Triforce to banish Ganondorf forever from this world. You're quick-witted; you're strong; you're courageous. And you may just be our only hope."

Link swallowed tightly. He nodded slowly. "I will do what you ask," he decided.

There was no warmth in the King's eyes—only sadness. "Death is more than a mere possibility, I'm afraid. The last thing I want is to send a boy into the jaws of mortal peril. I'd much rather send someone more experienced. But… none of my knights have the essential traits you possess."

"Thank you… I think," Link murmured, his voice cracking as with white knuckles he gripped his knees, stomach churning.

"I spoke earlier of worthiness," Impa reminded the King. "I believe I have something that will suit this circumstance. We Sheikah are the record-keepers, the historians, of Hyrule; I know the location of the Master Sword, the blade of evil's bane. It is a weapon that can only be drawn by someone with the spirit of a Hero—one who is selfless, noble, good, and kind." She blinked slowly, gazing piercingly into Link's eyes. "If this blade takes you as its master, then your destiny is to fight for Hyrule and claim the Triforce."

Link was silent, feeling the weight of the world drop onto his shoulders.

He had nearly been killed… he was in no hurry to return to the frightening state between life and death, but the King had made it quite clear that he would certainly do so if he went on this quest…

He was just a lowly farm boy—nobody special, with no real training of any kind. And his King was asking him to do something that would affect the entire world. Something that could save it from the ageless terror haunting his dreams.

The King gently clapped his shoulder. "Go ahead and rest. There are clothes for you on the nightstand; you have this day to decide if this is truly what you want to do. I'll return tomorrow to hear your answer." He smiled gently; then he and Impa left the room. The door closed softly behind them.

Link had never felt more alone.


	6. Chapter 6: Journey's Dawn

**Journey's Dawn**

Zelda scowled, irritably dipping her quill into a nearby inkpot and scribbling words as they came to her. She'd spent the entirety of yesterday afternoon working on her essay; Master Kaepo told her it was worthless and asked for a revision.

She had planned to visit Link in the morning, to see how he was daring… and instead she was stuck in the library, trying to eliminate the so-called 'repetition' in her paper.

"It's impossible _not_ to be repetitive when writing about the duties of a princess," she muttered crossly. "There's only so many ways to write, 'A princess does this. A princess does that.'"

A low cough drew her attention away from the paper. Startled, afraid she'd been overheard by the wrong ears, she swiftly looked up. Her heart skipped a panicked beat.

Link stood in the library's doorway, wearing a dark blue tunic over a chainmail shirt with light leather armor fastened across his chest and forearms. A black hooded cloak hung from his shoulders, floating in the air just above his feet, clad in knee-high brown boots that hugged his calves. A simple broadsword and a round wooden shield were strapped to his back; a small dagger hung from his belt.

Link shifted awkwardly and Zelda realized she was staring. "S-sorry," she stammered, quickly getting to her feet and approaching him. "Where'd you get those clothes?"

He blushed. "The, uh, your father… gave them to me." There was an underlying note of awe in his voice, as if he didn't quite believe it had actually happened.

"Well… you look nice," Zelda blushed. She had only ever seen him wearing an old feed bag and ratty trousers; seeing him now, clad in actual clothes and not rags, she felt suddenly acutely aware of his broad stature and handsome features. The blue of his tunic in particular seemed to deepen the color of his eyes. She gulped. "H-how are you?"

"Good—better than ever," he grinned. "I mean… getting hurt wasn't particularly enjoyable, but the Sheikah lady—Impa—brought me here, I think, and took care of me… I don't think I've ever had so much food in my entire life!"

Zelda studied him, drinking in the joy and gratitude clearly painted upon his features. "I guess my father _does_ have a heart, after all," she smiled, playfully nudging his shoulder. "It was good of him to allow you to stay."

Link's bright grin faded. "Well… actually I've come to say goodbye. I'm leaving today, I think. The King requires a favor of me in exchange."

For a moment Zelda was tempted to insist he take her along… but she knew that to do so would surely enrage her father more than usual. Seeing Link injured… knowing how dangerous the world really was… it made her rethink her desire to go outside. _Perhaps Father was right about everything. I'm not brave enough to face monsters._ "Good luck, I suppose," she sighed. _And please don't die…_

"Well, then," a familiar solemn voice chuckled, and Zelda jumped in surprise as Impa appeared from the shadows behind a bookshelf. "The Princess is beginning to learn maturity. I must admit that I am surprised you didn't jump at this chance to spread your wings a little."

Zelda winced, feeling the burn of the Sheikah's orange eyes upon her. _Great. She's going to make me say it out loud._ "It's just that I… don't think I'm actually brave enough to face the real world. With… with monsters. I think I've been extremely fortunate thus for to have not come across any of them."

"You're beginning to learn," Impa smiled. "You have passed the test."

"What test?" Link looked equally confused.

"I've managed to convince your father that you should go into hiding along with Link," Impa answered. "With the threat of the Gerudic Order hanging over our heads, I think it is best that you become as difficult to find as possible. If the Order ever wants to imprison you as hostages, they would be searching for a ragged farm boy and a princess, not a young travelling soldier and a peasant girl."

Zelda nodded in agreement, but inside she was squirming with uneasiness; uncertainty and bitter disappointment twisted her soul. _Now that I've decided I don't want to see the world, I'm being given permission to go._ "What if… what if I don't want to?" she asked meekly.

"Can I get those words in writing?" Impa laughed. Zelda could tell, grudgingly, that the Sheikah was enjoying herself immensely. "The King and I have decided that it will be safer to hide you where no one would think to look—among the commoners, in disguise. Link will protect you, I'm certain."

Link nodded eagerly. Zelda remembered with a pang of guilt how willingly he had subjected himself to the fists of rogues on her behalf, barely knowing anything about her personality. "And what will I do?" she demanded. "Who will protect _him?_ What is the benefit of having me tail along?"

"I think I can protect myself," Link assured her with a hesitant smile. "I have a sword now. And a shield. _And_ armor."

"And _you,_ Princess, will get what you've always wanted," Impa's eyes glittered. "A chance to observe the kingdom you will one day rule as one of the common folk. I expect you to take advantage of this opportunity and to make careful note of what you see and hear. Do you understand?"

Zelda nodded, bowing her head reluctantly. "Yes, Impa."

"Excellent," the Sheikah clasped her hands in front of her. "Follow me, both of you; I will send you off." Striding quickly over to the library doors she snapped her fingers, and they swung slowly open before them. Link's jaw dropped; Zelda suppressed a giggle—clearly he had never seen Sheikah magic before.

They followed Impa through the castle, past murals and tapestries and gilded frames, making their way farther from the lavish, extravagant wealth of the upper floors down towards the servants' quarters, down a plain, narrow winding staircase to a simple hall illuminated by humble windows letting in clean white sunlight from outside. Zelda could hear someone singing and felt a breeze that smelled of fresh autumn kiss her face; a window was open nearby, letting in the sound of the washwoman's song from outside.

"In here," Impa murmured, ushering her into a small washroom. "Link, would you remain outside?"

"O-of course," he stammered, cheeks reddening slightly; Zelda could tell he was intimidated by the Sheikah. She hurried into the room, and Impa closed the door behind them.

"You may find this difficult to bear," Impa began slowly, "but because of your recent behavior I find myself doubting that. On this journey you will only be allowed one set of clothes, and of course there will be no scented baths or cozy beds to sink into at the end of the day. I've put together a disguise for you—"

"Wouldn't one of my other disguises work?" Zelda interrupted hesitantly.

Impa smiled patiently. "With all due respect, your disguises would not hold up against close scrutiny. I'm afraid you'll need something better." She snapped her fingers and gestured towards the mirror; uncertainly Zelda stepped towards it, unable to prevent a startled gasp from escaping when she saw that her golden hair had turned a cold dark brown. She gulped, stunned by the difference—it was almost like staring at someone else's face, and not her own… even her eyebrows and lashes had darkened. It was a powerful spell.

"Is this… permanent?" she asked.

"I can remove the color whenever I choose," Impa smiled. "But for now your hair is brown, and nothing can change it back." She turned to pull something from the wooden countertop and held up a simple blue dress with a cream-colored collar and sleeves and underskirts the same color. "Put this on. There's also a pair of boots and a cloak that should go nicely with the dress. When you're finished I'll braid your hair; you won't want it getting in your face while you ride."

"Right," Zelda murmured, shedding her layers of pink silk and creamy satin, rubbing the makeup from her face and throwing on the peasant dress. She was relieved to kick off the ridiculous tiny shoes she had been wearing; the woolen stockings and tall leather boots she was given instead felt much more comfortable. Straightening, she studied her reflection in the mirror as Impa began tugging at her hair.

She certainly did not look like Princess Zelda anymore. Her darkened hair accounted for most of the change, but the clothes contributed as well. Even the items she had pilfered from the washtubs of servants had been slightly more wealthy-looking and form-fitting; this new dress was loose and hung limply from her frame, not at all flattering. And without her makeup, she looked even more plain and simple.

"It's a perfect disguise," she murmured, staring in the mirror.

Impa deftly finished the two braids going down her back and nodded curtly. "Almost. When you leave the protection of the castle, your name will be Nicole Langley. You are the orphaned daughter of a cobbler and a seamstress, born and raised in Castle Town. Now that you have come of age, you are travelling the land in search of a mentor—or a husband."

"And why am I with Link?"

The Sheikah smiled. "Because the two of you are old friends, and he has agreed to accompany you wherever your travels lead, to protect you from monsters and bandits and the like."

They re-entered the hallway and Impa led them from the stuffy air of the castle to the warm sunlight of the courtyard. A chill wind was blowing; some of the trees lining the white-stone pathways had already lost many of their amber leaves. Flowers grew in elegant designs around the trunks of the trees and in rings around white marble fountains and hedges trimmed to take the shape of magical creatures.

When Impa turned aside from the main path, towards a small paddock where two horses grazed, Zelda was disappointed. _So these are the mounts we will take,_ she realized. Beautiful Rafton was not one of them, but the large, white-haired russet mare Link had taken to Kakariko was there, and she raised her head as they approached. The other horse was a dark, shaggy bay, nondescript in every possible manner.

"Epona!" Link exclaimed, rushing forward to the paddock fence. The mare let out a whinny in response, galloping to meet him. Zelda could feel the ground shuddering beneath her thick hooves; she was certainly big enough to be a warhorse, but since she had been born on a farm, Zelda guessed that she was used for draft work, pulling plows and the like.

"I noticed when I was observing you that you seemed to be particularly attached to this mount," Impa murmured, eyes glittering. "So we bought her from Mr. Senza. She's yours, now."

Link's eyes widened with gratitude. "Thank you!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms around the mare's thick neck as she nuzzled his shoulder with her broad nose.

Zelda turned to Impa, raising an eyebrow. "And… that bay horse over there?"

"His name is Shard. He's a gelding, calm and reliable… perhaps not the most elegant or swift, but remember you're supposed to be rather poor."

Zelda nodded slowly. Shard cropped grass in the paddock, ears twitching occasionally their way; the only thing he seemed interested in was the food he was consuming. Compared to Epona, with her large presence and vivacity, he seemed about as lively as a stone.

"Well, let's get on with this," Impa sighed, patting Zelda's shoulder as if in consolation. There were two saddles and bridles hanging over the top of the fence, and lying on the ground were bedrolls and satchels bulging with what was most likely food and maps. "These are yours. They're used; they'll make your disguises seem more believable, but they also might break."

"I'll be able to fix them," Link assured her confidently, walking towards the gear; Epona followed, ears pricked and alert. Shard continued to graze obliviously. "I've done it loads of times before…"

"Excellent," Impa purred, observing as the two youths saddled and bridled their mounts. Her features hardened, and slowly, as if with great reluctance, she pulled a slender wooden instrument from within an inner pocket.

Zelda could not help but feel annoyed. "Is this really the time for music?"

Ignoring her, Impa handed the instrument to Link. "This is a recorder infused with the magic of my kind. There are certain songs that can cast spells; this is one of them." Cupping her hands over her mouth she whistled an eerie, haunting tune that sent a shiver up Zelda's spine. "When you play those notes on that instrument, the eye of the Sheikah will guide you to the Master Sword. Repeat them for me now."

Link's Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped nervously. "I… don't know how…"

Zelda nodded in agreement. "And there isn't time for him to learn. I think we should just go."

Impa turned her piercing gaze upon the Princess. "Neither of you know the way," she pointed out. "Wandering without guidance, without purpose, would be useless to us. I encourage you to practice as often as you can, Link, but for now just do your best."

Link eyed the instrument skeptically, placed it to his lips with his fingers over the holes, and blew. A shrill squeal whistled from the instrument and Zelda cringed at the harsh sound; Epona snorted and tossed her head as if in disgust, and even Impa winced.

"Use less air," the Sheikah ordered with the barest degree of impatience in her voice. "Imagine that you want to fog the glass of a cold window; use slower, warmer, air."

Link tilted his head in bafflement, and Zelda could tell that he'd never even thought of learning a musical instrument—the art of using air to create sound had never been something he'd needed to know. But he tried again, and a velvety warm low note emerged. One by one he lifted his fingers, testing out the pitch of each note; Impa repeated her song and Link, fumbling slightly, copied it, over and over again until Impa nodded approvingly.

"Much better," she encouraged him. "Now, when you leave the castle gates, play this song again and the eye of the Sheikah will guide you. Use the power of this instrument wisely; if you misuse it in any fashion, I will know, and I will hunt you down myself."

Link's face whitened, and Zelda felt annoyance soil her soul. _She doesn't have to be so hard on him,_ she thought angrily. "Are we ready now?"

"Patience, Your Highness. Let me explain the nature of this journey. You are to find the Master Sword and retrieve it, if possible. Either way, once you have made your attempt, return to the castle. Then you will receive additional instruction."

Zelda nodded grudgingly, swinging herself up into Shard's saddle. The gelding shifted slightly and she grit her teeth, struggling to adjust her balance to compensate for her dress. Sitting sidesaddle was far less convenient, but she had no other watched with envy and admiration as Link easily vaulted onto Epona's tall, broad back.

"Ride swiftly," Impa urged, looking up at them. "There are more than a few dangers lurking in the wilds of Hyrule; you must always have your wits about you. May Din grant you strength; may your minds be sharp with the wisdom of Nayru; may you be blessed with Farore's courage. And may Hylia protect you always."

Zelda swallowed tightly, fear stirring once again in her soul. _She makes it sound as if we're going off to war,_ she thought uncertainly. "Thank you," she gulped.

The Sheikah smiled. "Get on with it, then."

Link took the lead, navigating Epona out of the paddock with (or so it seemed to Zelda) almost no effort at all. Meanwhile she frustrated herself, nudging Shard's sides and struggling to get him to quicken his pace from the slow, plodding walk to at least a faster walk, if not a trot. He didn't listen.

 _Impa did this on purpose,_ she thought with certainty. _She's trying to test my patience._

She heaved a sigh, shoulders slumping. _Well… she won't succeed._

She saw Link ahead of her pulling up his hood as they neared the wide gate leading out of the castle walls. She wondered if she should do the same; then she realized that it would look suspicious for a peasant girl trying to conceal herself. Link could get away with it; he was supposed to be a travelling soldier, after all—maintaining a surly, roguish attitude fit his disguise perfectly.

"So what was it like, living here?" Link asked, looking all around him as they passed through the gates.

Zelda winced. "Wouldn't you—"she gave a slight cough, trying to remind him of his backstory—"wouldn't you already know that? Since, of course, you grew up here as well…"

He stiffened. "Right. I… I guess my injuries dealt a blow to my memory or something."

"I hope everything comes back to you quickly," Zelda hinted. It wasn't likely that someone was eavesdropping on them just yet, but she knew that it was vital for Link to remember and embrace his disguise as quickly as possible, to avoid future confusion.

"Me too," Link gulped, tugging gently on Epona's reins and slowing her to match Shard's sluggish pace.

They remained silent as they made their way through Castle Town, avoiding conversation as if it were some deadly illness. Link didn't know enough about the city to be able to strike up a convincing conversation with her, and she guessed that he was afraid of messing up again. But Zelda felt pressure building between her shoulder blades; she longed for _something_ to snap the awkward tension between the two of them. The city was quite large, after all, and it would take several minutes to get out of it, especially at their current speed. _Thanks a lot, Shard._

She tried to take the time to drink in the familiar sights and sounds and smells; after all, she didn't know how long she would be away from home. But, then again, she had never liked Castle Town anyway—it was too close to the over-protective castle, and besides, she had made her way through the town on numerous other escapades, sometimes at night and sometimes during the day; it held no more surprises for her. _I could probably close my eyes and still be able to imagine every detail of this place,_ she thought unhappily.

At last they passed through the city gates and emerged into the vast rolling green stretches of Hyrule Field. Deep blue skies embraced the land, dotted here and there by a few brave white clouds; the world was comprised of blue and green as far as the eye could see. This was how every journey began for her. Yet there was something completely different about this one from her past ventures—she was not alone, and she had her father's permission to leave. _I really ought to be enjoying this,_ she chided herself. _Yes, I might have a horse as slow as a Zora King, and there might actually be monsters waiting for us… but I've finally been given permission to do what I've always wanted to do. This should be wonderful._

Beside her Epona stopped suddenly and Zelda quickly tugged Shard's reins, urging him to do the same; she turned to Link to see why they had stopped.

He pulled out the Sheikah recorder Impa had given him and placed it to his lips, playing the eerie melody she had given him, eyes closed in concentration. When he looked up, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped in astonishment. "By the Goddesses!" he exclaimed, staring at the sky.

"What is it?" Zelda asked eagerly. "What happened?"

"It's… it's like there's a mark in the sky…" he tilted his head from side to side. "When I move it stays still, pointing to… to the southwest. I think that's what she meant when she told us to follow the eye of the Sheikah."

"I can't see anything in the sky at all," Zelda told him, slightly disappointed as she craned her neck. "Just clouds."

"I think it's because I played that song," Link said. "I guess whoever plays it can see the mark."

"Right." Zelda inhaled deeply, trying to calm her rising annoyance towards Impa. "Let's get going."

Link grinned at her. "Are you ready, then? Because I know I'm not. Hiyah!" He dug his heels into Epona's sides and she launched herself into a fiery gallop, tearing southwest over the grassy meadows. Zelda followed, trailing behind upon her lazy bay. _I hope we can do this quickly._


	7. Chapter 7: Riding South

**Riding South**

Link couldn't resist the urge to look up whenever he could, to see the fiery glowing Sheikah mark in the sky—an eye with three triangles above and a teardrop beneath. It was large, larger than the clouds dotting the sky, and it was as red and burning as Impa's eyes. He found it difficult to believe that no one else could see it—after all, it was bright and obvious and _huge._

There was no way it could have been normal, but then again, his life had not been normal since he'd met Impa in Kakariko Village. _Amazing._

He stroked Epona's mane, feeling slightly numb by his fortune. It was easy to forget the uneasiness he'd felt in the presence of the King, learning that the legends were true, when he was safe, riding the horse he had raised alongside one of his only friends, who just happened to be the Princess. The sky was a rich, deep blue, and the grass was a lovely dark emerald, with pale pink and blue flowers scattered across the expanse. It felt like paradise.

"This has to be too good to be true," he said, glancing over at Zelda. She didn't seem to share his enthusiasm; her face was clouded over with some dreary expression he could not name. "Er… you alright?"

"I should be," Zelda admitted. "This is what I've always wanted. But… I suppose I'm afraid."

Link's eyes widened. "You rode all the way to Senza's farm _at night,_ and you're afraid?"

"Terrified." Her eyes glittered with what might have been tears. "I didn't quite understand how dangerous this world was until you almost _died._ Now… now I know the truth, and I'm frightened by it."

Link thought for a moment, hearing her words in his head. _Ignorance is the worst sort of trap one can be held within,_ she had said. "But… at least you _know_ the truth now, right?"

"I suppose so," Zelda sighed. "I'm sorry to be so downhearted all of a sudden. And… this horse doesn't help my spirits at all—it's as if all of the life and energy has been drained from him."

Link studied the shaggy bay. There were white hairs over his eyes and down his nose; he was bony, and his coat was rather lackluster. But his dark brown eyes were excited and glittered with vivacity.

"I think he's just old," Link said. "But I think he's happy to be doing something again. Just be patient with him."

" _Old?"_ Zelda echoed resentfully. "That certainly explains a lot."

Link grinned. "Age isn't necessarily a bad thing for a horse," he tried to explain. "He's more experienced; he'll be less likely to be startled by something, and he'll just be more reliable in general."

"If you say so," Zelda muttered, lowering her head.

Link's smile faded. _She really doesn't like this,_ he realized, his heart sinking. _Trying to get her to look on the bright side didn't work. I need to do something else._ He racked his brain for a moment, looking to the sky, at the glaring red Sheikah mark. "Zelda… I'm frightened, too. When your father told me that the legends and stories that haunted my dreams as a child were real, and that I would have to protect Hyrule from the evils of this world… it terrified. I'm no hero; I carry a sword and a shield but I have no idea how to use them."

She glanced sideways at him. "That's comforting."

Link winced. "Sorry. I was just trying to cheer you up."

She smiled at him, shaking her head slightly. "And you thought that telling me you have no idea how to fight would help?"

Link grinned ruefully, grateful that at least she was smiling now. He turned his attention to the horizon; he could just barely make out a faint ragged line rising ominously from the ground—the Central Alps, already capped with snow despite the fact that winter had yet to arrive. He shivered in the crisp autumn breeze, murmuring a brief plea to Hylia that he would cross the mountains on a warm day.

When night fell, he built a small campfire to drive away the encroaching frost of the night air. After giving some water to Epona and swigging some down himself, he dug into one of the saddlebags and found several bundles of food inside. Hungrily Link tore one open and took a bite out of a chunk of dried, salted meat, letting a hard biscuit drop into his free hand. Across the fire, Zelda wrinkled her nose at her own food; Link struggled to imagine that she usually ate only the finest foods in the kingdom—it was still a much better meal than anything he'd had on Senza's farm.

 _That was only days ago,_ he mused. Not even a single week had passed. _Everything's changed…_

With a heavy sigh he spread out his bedroll, lay down on his stomach, and closed his eyes, while Zelda did the same on the other side of the flames.

* * *

An ear-splitting scream awakened him. Link sat bolt upright with a gasp of shock, looking wildly around; the sun was just beginning to rise, casting a rosy red glow over the massive field. Zelda was standing, rigid with terror, gazing at something over his shoulder. "What on Farore's green earth is _that?!"_ she shrieked, trembling.

Link shot to his feet and spun around. A tremor coursed through him at the sight of a massive plant-like creature flying towards them, with rotating petals keeping it aloft and wide, leaf-like blades swivelling at its base. His throat went dry. "It's a peahat," he answered, swallowing tightly. "Let's get out of here."

He turned to find Epona; she stood several paces away from him, quivering, the whites of her eyes shining with fear as she observed the monster steadily approaching. But Shard was nowhere in sight.

Link hurried over to Zelda, catching her by the wrist and rushing her over to Epona. "Shard was gone when I woke up," she explained shakily. "I d-don't know—"

"There's nothing we can do about him," Link muttered, grasping the Princess around the waist and hoisting her up onto Epona's broad back before swinging up after her and nudging the mare's flanks. With a snort she jumped into a gallop, long legs tearing the grass beneath her hooves, but the peahat followed easily, gliding almost lazily through the air towards them. Link winced; Epona was built for hauling heavy plows and carts, not running swiftly across fields. _Come on, girl,_ he urged silently, nudging her sides once again.

The peahat was slowly gaining. Epona's heavy pants sounded loudly in the crisp morning air, and the whirring sound of the peahat as it neared filled Link's ears. He swallowed tightly. _We have to fight._

"Keep going," he murmured in Zelda's ear. "Head southwest."

"How do I know which way is southwest?" she demanded, breathless with fear. Link shrugged and slipped down from Epona's saddle, turning to face the oncoming monster as the Princess escaped to safety.

"Hey!" he shouted, dashing away and waving his arms over his head(although he had no idea if peahats could see or not). "Over here!"

The peahat swivelled, turning towards him and swiftly flying over to him. Link drew his sword from his back and tried to slip his shield from his back, but by then the monster was nearly on top of him. One of the leaf-like blades caught him in the side, flinging him through the air to the ground, and he grunted as the breath was driven from his lungs. The side of his head collided with the ground and pain flashed through him; he lay still, dazed, trying to regain control of his swimming head. _Come on! Get up or you're dead and it'll target Zelda and Epona instead!_

He pushed himself to his feet and dove for his sword, retrieving it from where it had fallen and slashing wildly at the rotating blades mere inches from him, but his weapon merely bounced off of its surface; Link stumbled backwards as fast as he could, trying to escape. He tripped over a grassy hillock and fell onto his backside just as the peahat reached him; it hovered above him, swivelling widely as if looking for him. Link looked up at its underside, heart pounding wildly, and his eyes widened in disgust.

Protected by the rotating blades was a strange beak-like mouth surrounded by a ring of teeth protruding from flabby skin. Link clenched his teeth and plunged his sword upwards, into the fleshy underbelly of the creature, and thick violet blood gushed down his arm, hot and burning. Link yelped in surprise, yanking his sword back out as the peahat sank downwards, blades rotating ever faster and moving downwards, forming a cage around him.

 _I can't get out!_ Link pulled his knees to his chest as the beak-like mouth parted above him; a long, slippery tongue snaked downwards, and Link squirmed away from it, only to have one of the blades smack his head, driving him back to the center with his ears ringing from the force of the blow.

The next thing he knew, the slimy tongue was wrapped around his neck, slowly squeezing as it pulled him upwards, towards the beast's maw. Wheezing, struggling for breath, he fumbled for his sword, fingers groping among the grass. His vision flickered black and his the flesh of his neck burned from the peahat's astringent saliva. He convulsed desperately, lungs shaking as he struggled to inhale. Abandoning the search for his sword his hands flew to his throat, tugging desperately at the slimy tendril choking the life from his body. His hands felt strangely weak; they trembled from the effort and his heart hammered erratically, starved of air.

 _No!_ he thought desperately, clinging to his fading cognizance. _No!_

The peahat was slowly sinking back to the ground, perhaps in an attempt to pin Link in place, to cease his frantic struggling. He abandoned his attempts to pry the tongue from his neck and desperately clawed at the grass beneath him, frantically reaching for his sword. At last his fingers closed around the leather-wrapped hilt and without thinking he gripped it in both hands and stabbed upwards, once, twice, three times. The peahat released an ear-splitting screech of agony and released him, launching itself straight up into the sky.

Struggling for breath Link rolled onto his back in time to see the monster come to a stop in midair, blades pointed up, beak pointed down, and start to fall back to the ground. Grasping his neck in one hand and his sword in the other Link forced himself to his feet, staggering away just in time as the peahat crashed into the ground, embedding itself so deeply that only the petals at its top peaked over the surface of the ground, forming a deceptively peaceful, larger-than-normal pink flower.

Link doubled over, coughing violently, massaging his aching neck. His head ached where he'd hit it twice; his side throbbed where the peahat had struck him the first time. Grimacing, he knelt and wiped his sword clean on the grass before poking it back into the sheath at his back. He heard a whinny and wearily pushed himself to his feet as Epona galloped towards him, a petrified Zelda still seated sideways upon her back.

"Good girl," he croaked, reaching out to stroke the mare's muzzle. "You kept her safe."

"Are you alright?" Zelda gasped, slipping down from Epona's broad shoulders. "I thought you'd been _killed!"_

She flung her arms around him, squeezing him tightly and burying her face against his neck. Link felt his heart speed up; awkwardly he embraced her, patting her shoulder as she cried into his shoulder. _Is this actually happening?!_ "I'm fine," he assured her, wincing at the sound of his hoarse voice.

"Please don't do that again," Zelda begged. "Don't ever tell me to run when you're in danger _again."_

Link thought about reminding her that her father had practically ordered him to protect her with his life, but he knew that she would be upset by that and decided to simply relax in her warm embrace, gently stroking her long dark hair— _it's so soft!_

At last Epona nudged him gently, and he cleared his throat. "We should get going," he rasped, reluctantly pulling herself away. "I'd like to put more distance between us and that peahat."

Zelda nodded, wiping the last tears from her eyes, sniffing slightly. She nodded in wordless agreement and allowed him to lift her up to sit sideways behind Epona's saddle. He joined her, taking the reins and nudging his horse's sides, suddenly acutely aware of the Princess' arms around his waist. He gulped nervously and turned his attention to the sky, where the Sheikah eye continued to glare down at him, marking the way.

"What do you know of monsters?" Link asked after several minutes of trotting over the fields in silence. "I recognized the peahat, but only because I needed to be able to identify them. They live mainly in wide-open grasslands, so Senza had me check the ground for any peahat sprouts every month—if one was allowed to mature completely in his fields, it would destroy his crops. And anyone else trying to approach it unarmed."

Zelda made a strange sound in his ear—something between a laugh and a groan. "I… I've seen drawings of them, but… on paper they didn't seem quite as large as that one was just now."

" _That_ one was much larger than normal," Link assured her. "I've heard that peahats usually live near the road, thinking that since there are more people travelling there, they'll have more food. But…"

"But my father sends out soldiers every few months to clear the trails," Zelda finished for him.

Link nodded. "Exactly. So the peahats living by the road don't have time to mature. That one, though… I doubt _anyone_ goes off the path the way we have. That one just now could have been _decades_ old."

Zelda shuddered. "Is it dead now?" she asked fearfully.

Link hesitated. "Erm… maybe. I'm not exactly certain. This is the first time I've fought one."

"Will it follow us?" The terror was evident in her voice; it was almost as if she had never seen a monster before. _Nayru's love… she can't be_ that _lucky, can she?_

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "Was that the first monster you've ever seen?"

"Outside of books, yes," she responded, a touch of embarrassment and defensiveness entering her tone. "The other times I've gotten out, I've travelled along the road. Mostly during the day."

Link nodded slowly. "Does that make a difference?"

"Well… yes, it does. The only other diurnal monsters—other than peahats, of course—are octoroks and sometimes chuchu. And octoroks usually only live in bodies of water or within forests, where there's plenty of shrubbery to hide behind."

Link tilted his head, trying to picture it. Epona had slowed to a brisk walk, and without having to worry about keeping his seat, he found himself more able to concentrate on their conversation. "Have you ever been in a forest?"

"No," Zelda said defensively. "Whenever I managed to sneak out, it was always to Lon Lon Ranch or Loftdown City, since those paths are the most well-marked and frequently travelled. Ordon Village is within a forest, I believe… but it was too far away. I… wasn't ever bold enough to travel more than a day, and by then Father would have caught me."

"Well… I've never been through a forest either," Link admitted. "I mean, I ventured a few paces into the woods north of Kakariko, but…" He shuddered. "You know what they say about those woods."

Her grip tightened around his waist. "What do they say?" she asked nervously.

Link winced. Not only was her grip pressing against the large bruise left by the peahat, but he knew that the tale would frighten her even more, and that was the last thing he wanted to do to her. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."

"You can't do that!" Zelda exclaimed in disappointment. "This is the whole reason I'm here, after all—to learn about this land. You can't start to tell me something I don't know and then change your mind!"

"Alright," Link said reluctantly. "They call it the Lost Woods. Those who enter disappear, and are never seen again. When I ventured in, I thought I could hear faint strains of music. Ocarina music. But I didn't dare go any further."

Zelda shuddered. "I'm surprised you went in at all," she noted. " _I_ wouldn't risk it."

"I guess I just wanted to know what a forest looked like, and that was the nearest one," Link explained. "It _was_ very beautiful… they say that one of the heroes of old was raised in the Lost Woods, y'know."

"That doesn't make it any more enticing," Zelda scoffed. "Now, you asked about monsters. There are three kinds-sentient, diurnal, and nocturnal. The sentient consist of moblins, bokoblins…"

Link was relieved to stop talking for a while; his throat ached from his near-strangulation, and speaking only seemed to make it worse. He was content to listen to Zelda's voice as she explained everything(or so it seemed) she knew about the monsters roaming the kingdom. She had a pleasant voice, after all… it was no chore to listen to her.

Epona trekked steadily across the plains, over rolling hills beginning to turn brown and dry in the cold air of autumn, past large, strange pink flowers gazing innocently up at the wide sky above, among patches of clover and short, scrubby bushes. The line of mountains in the distance grew nearer and nearer; as dusk began to fall Link could just make out their color—a striking snow-capped red, and in the blazing light of the sunset the mighty peaks seemed to glow. It wasn't long afterwards that he heard the sound of rushing water; as Epona crested the top of a hill he could clearly see a wide river carving a path at the bottom of a shallow valley, slithering from the north and flowing southward.

"We'll camp here tonight," he said, dismounting and leading Epona towards the water. He looked all around, wondering if Shard had found the river. But he could see no sign of the elderly horse; the soft red soil of of the shoreline was smooth and undisturbed. _Zelda was right to doubt him,_ he thought, his heart sinking; he had never really been let down by a horse before.

Zelda slipped down from Epona's back and walked to river, trailing her fingers in the water. "It's cold," she said with a shudder. "Is it safe to drink?"

Link knelt down and cupped his hands, dipping them in the river and bringing them to his lips. The water was cool and fresh, with a sweet flavor that must have come from the sediment drifting by. "I think so," he said at last. "It's not saltwater."

Zelda raised an eyebrow at him. "And so just because it's freshwater, it's safe to drink? I find myself doubting that."

Link shrugged, eyes narrowing defensively. "This is my first time out in the wilderness. I'll admit, I don't really know what I'm doing. But we need water. Those water skins have enough left for another day, and after that… nothing. I don't think we have a choice." A flash of red caught his eye, and he turned to see Epona already ankle-deep in the river, drinking eagerly. He gestured at her. "If you want proof, just look at her. She has great instincts; if she thinks that water is fit to drink, then it must be fine."

Zelda heaved a sigh. "If you say so."

Link got to his feet, roaming along the bank and gathering small stones and pieces of scattered driftwood. (There were precious few of those, but he was able to scrounge up a decent number for their fire that evening.) Then he began making his way back to where Zelda sat on the shore, unsaddling Epona and brushing her coat. _Glad they're getting along._

All at once there was a high whistling sound, as if something was hurtling through the air at great speeds. Link looked around in surprise, trying to identify where it was coming from. An instant later he heard Epona's whinny of pain and a jolt of terror electrified his body. He whirled around in time to see her galloping away, ears flattened to her skull.

"Epona!" he shouted, sprinting after her, the soft soil of the riverbank sucking at his boots. " _Epona!"_

"Link, the water!" Zelda shrieked, pointing wildly. A second whistle whirred through the air, and Link slowed to a halt, turning back in time to see a rock soar towards them, striking Zelda in the chest and knocking her to the ground. Link gasped, stunned, sprinting the last few feet towards her and falling to his knees at her side.

"Zelda?" he asked, gently shaking her shoulders. "Zelda! Wake up!" His heart pounded in his chest and frantically he checked her neck for a pulse. His shoulders sagged in relief. _She's fine. Just unconscious._

The whistling sounded again and he dived aside just as a rock slammed into the ground where he'd been kneeling and crumbled into pieces. Link shot to his feet and reached over his shoulder, trying to yank his shield from its place on his back, keeping his eyes trained on the water. He saw a strange creature burst up from the depths, with a large round mouth, tentacles, and a massive buoyant head. _An octorok?_

From its maw it spat out a large stone whistling through the air towards him. Link tugged violently on his shield, but it didn't budge and he dropped to the ground once again as the projectile soared over his head. "Enough of this," he muttered, drawing his dagger from its sheath at his waist and severing the leather strap fastening his shield and sheath to his back. The weapons clattered to the ground, just as the octorok leapt once more out of the water, firing a rock at him.

He wasn't fast enough to dodge; it slammed into the back of his calf as he tried to run, sending him crashing down face-first into the soft soil. With a grunt of pain he pushed himself to his feet; his leg ached, but he bent down to lift his shield and slipped it over his right arm just in time to see the next rock coming straight towards him—the last thing he saw before blinding fiery pain erupted in his head and blackness engulfed him.

* * *

 _It was dawn. Pale golden-gray light graced the endless fields and the mountains in the distance. He looked into the river, at his reflection on the water. But the face glaring back at him was not his own… and yet, in a malicious, twisted way, it exactly mirrored his own. Malevolent red eyes met his; his skin was a dark, shadowy black; his hair was as white as snow._

" _I see you," the reflection hissed, sneering. "I see you…"_


	8. Chapter 8: Fording the River

**Fording the River**

Zelda was first aware of a throbbing ache in her back and chest, present whenever she breathed in. The gentle hush of water flowing slowly by kissed her ears; the ground of red earth and scattered stones beneath her felt solid and firm and uncomfortable.

She opened her eyes. There was darkness above her, and scattered stars twinkled coldly. Night had fallen. _How long was I out?_

A thrill of terror shot through her as she remembered why she was on the ground. The octorok… the stone it had fired at her, forcefully striking her chest and knocking her flat on her back, driving the breath from her lungs. Her head struck the ground; she hadn't been able to breathe… she had been taken by the dark void of unconsciousness.

She sat up quickly, wincing as her head throbbed and her vision smeared. She shut her eyes, breathing hard, fingers digging into the soft soil. Her chest began to hurt; hesitantly she placed her hand over her ribs, feeling the swollen bruise there and wincing. _Well… at least my ribs aren't broken_ — _at least, I don't think they are…_

She swallowed tightly. Her throat felt strangely dry; warily scanning the water for any sign of the octorok and finding none, she crawled slowly to the river's edge and drank deeply; despite her earlier qualms she allowed the discolored water to trickle down her parched throat. _Much better._

Zelda straightened, wiping the back of her mouth with her sleeve. It seemed strange that Link had not been hovering over her when she'd awakened, given his earlier protectiveness. She called his name uncertainly, looking around before cringing inwardly— _That octorok might hear me!_

Regardless, there was no response. Unsteadily she got to her feet, scanning the riverbank and trying to quell the rising panic in her soul. _I'm all alone out here! I'll be killed! I'll never be able to find my way back home!_

She heard a low snort behind her and whirled around to see Epona trotting down the valley towards her, head held high. Zelda's shoulders sagged in relief; as the mare neared she reached out, but Epona tossed her head and continued downstream, nostrils flared, at last coming to a stop beside a prone figure sprawled on the bank.

Zelda felt as if her stomach had dropped out. " _Link!"_ she exclaimed, forgetting the octorok and dashing towards him. Epona looked up as she reached them, then went back to nosing the farm boy's face.

There was a massive bruise swelling over his forehead and cheekbone; his right eye was red and puffy, and his nose was crooked and blood stained his nostrils, but Zelda could see no other injury. She swallowed tightly. _He's unconscious; I suppose the octorok hit him directly in the face._

Not knowing exactly how to help, she walked to the river and dipped her hand in the frigid flow of water before returning to his side and pressing her dripping fingers to his swollen skin. Link gave a start, squirming weakly, and released a low groan; his one good eye flickered open and he blinked slowly, grimacing.

"Are you alright?" Zelda asked, withdrawing her hand from his cheek.

He squinted at her, as if he couldn't quite see her clearly. "I… yes, I'm… fine…"

Zelda gulped. He certainly didn't sound 'fine;' his voice was faint and dazed. "Do you remember what happened?"

He frowned in deep concentration and winced when the action pulled at his swollen brow. "The… octorok…" he murmured slowly. "Epona… and you…" His good eye widened. "You got hit."

Zelda nodded hesitantly. "But I'm alright now," she assured him. "Just a bit bruised…"

"I failed you…"

The woozy, forlorn croak was almost inaudibly. Zelda bit her lip. "I don't think there was anything you could have done," she said hopefully. "It's snot your fault."

He didn't seem to be focusing on her. Instead he lurched to his feet and swayed, breathing hard, eyes tightly closed. After taking a moment to regain his composure, he staggered the few paces to the river before falling to his knees and drinking deeply. But moments later there was a familiar splashing sound; Zelda's heart lurched with fear as she noticed the octorok hovering over the river, glaring at them. Epona whickered nervously, prancing on the bank before walking to her master's side and sinking to her knees near him.

"Smart horse," Link muttered distractedly.

Zelda hesitantly placed a hand on his muscular shoulder. "We need to get away from here," she suggested, "before we're attacked again.

He nodded slowly. Without a word he grabbed a fistful of Epona's mane and wearily dragged himself into her saddle; the mare swiftly stood and Zelda struggled to lift herself up behind him. Link reached down to help her, despite the glazed look in his eyes. As soon as they were both seated, Zelda's arms locked around Link's solid abdomen, Epona fled the riverside at a swift canter. They didn't ride a long way; the instant the river was out of sight they slowed to a stop. Link slid from his horse's back and, wobbling on unsteady legs, unfastened his cloak and spread it out on the ground. "Here," he croaked, gesturing feebly. "Y-you can sleep here."

Zelda decided not to argue with him—it would make him feel worse—despite the guilt swimming in her stomach. "Thank you," she murmured softly, sitting down and eyeing him with concern as he crumpled to his knees and leaned back, resting against Epona's side with his hands clasped over his chest as he gazed at the sky.

* * *

"Zelda?"

She jolted awake, eyes flying open to meet Link's weary gaze. There were clouds darkening the sky above him, but she could tell that it was morning. Link's face seemed to have swollen more during the night; the entire right side of his face was black and blue, but blood thankfully no longer streamed from his nostrils.

He pressed dried meat into her hands and left her side. She sat up slowly, watching as he returned to Epona, lifting her saddle, already loaded with his bedroll and shield dragged from the riverside, onto her back. Zelda got to her feet, bending to snatch up Link's cloak and brush away the dry grass clinging to the thick fabric. "Here," she called out, hurrying up to him and pressing the cloak into his hands. "It's getting cold. You'll need this."

"Thanks," he murmured, clipping it around his shoulders and turning away. "Ready to go?"

Zelda nodded, taking a bite of dried meat and chewing thoughtfully. His neck was bruised, to, though not as severely as his face; his voice was much less hoarse, for which she was greatly relieved.

Their long trek that day was much less violent. They kept a safe distance away from the river and thus avoided the octoroks lurking there, and other than that they only came across a blue chuchu which Link easily dispatched with a few blows of his sword. The monster exploded into gooey sapphire chunks that splattered across the ground.

"I've heard it said that chu jelly has healing properties," Zelda told him hopefully. "Perhaps we should keep it, to use on wounds and the like."

He nodded slowly, dismounting and unfastening one of the water skins hanging from the saddle, giving the remaining water to Epona and stuffing as much of the slimy blue gunk inside that could fit before smearing the rest across his swollen neck and face. Then they continued onwards, over the rolling hills.

Around evening Link stopped, studying the sky.

"What is it?" Zelda asked anxiously. "Is something wrong?"

"We need to cross the river."

Fear shivered through her. "What about the octoroks?"

He hesitated; in front of her his shoulders tensed and she could sense his uncertainty. "I don't know where this river leads," he admitted. "I've never looked at a map. But for the past several hours we've been following it more and more to the southeast, when we _need_ to go south _west._ The longer we continue along like this, the farther off-course we'll get, and that could add _days_ to our journey. I don't know how far away the Master Sword is hidden, so I don't want to waste what food we have."

Zelda's heart pounded. The hesitance and hint of fear in his voice were terrifying. "Alright," she squeaked, unconsciously gripping his waist tighter.

Slowly he exhaled and turned the non-swollen side of his face towards her, and she felt his hand curl around her own, warm and calloused. "Don't worry," he murmured soothingly. "I'll protect you. I won't fail again."

"But—" She didn't know what she would have said; he dismounted and unbuckled his belt, laying it on the ground before unfastening his cloak and ripping a thick strip of cloth from the hem. His face turned and interesting shade of red and he looked away.

"What are you doing?" Zelda asked. Without responding he unfastened the leather armor protecting his chest and shoulders before flinging off his tunic. Instinctively she jerked away, heart pounding, her own cheeks warm with a blush. _Nayru's love!_ "L-Link?"

"Sorry," he muttered. She turned towards him once more; his torso was bare, and he was clad only in his trousers. He paused and looked back at her. "You should raise the stirrups—you'll want your feet up as high as they can go."

Zelda obeyed quickly, dismounting and raising the stirrup irons, pulling up the leather strap as far as she could manage. Link moved to stand beside her, his clothes bundled up inside of his cloak; he fastened it to the back of Epona's saddle and Zelda swallowed tightly, realizing that he was wearing absolutely nothing save for the swath of cloth he had ripped from his cloak, tied around his waist. She could feel the heat radiating from his lithe, muscular form so suddenly close to hers; he turned to face her and she stifled a short gasp, forcing herself to look at his eyes, and only his eyes, and not his…

"Y-you should get back up," Link stammered, his cheeks aflame. "Epona's tall enough; I don't think you'll get wet from her saddle."

Understanding brightened Zelda's mind as she climbed back onto the mare's broad back, remembering how Epona had spooked and run off the last time they neared the water, encountering the octorok. _Link's going to stay beside her this time, to keep her calm,_ she realized. _That's way he undressed—he's planning to swim, and he knew that wet clothes would kill him._

Link walked to Epona's head and stroked her brow, pressing his cheek against hers. Then he began leading her forward, down the valley towards the river flowing peacefully below. They made it swiftly to the riverside, and Link hesitated; Zelda saw his Adam's apple bob as he stared at his toes. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, Princess."

"Well… you could have given me a bit of a warning," she suggested. "But I… I understand, I think."

He took Epona's bridle in one hand and guided her into the frigid water with a pained gasp, deeper and deeper until his solid chest was halfway submerged and the water brushed up against his horse's stomach. Zelda pulled her feet out of the stirrups to rest in front of her on the saddle; Link's breaths were ragged and shaky. "Can I help with anything?" she asked anxiously, yearning to do her part.

"I d-don't th-think so," Link shivered. Epona snorted and tossed her heads; Link reached up and looked deep into her eyes, rubbing a spot on her forehead.

It was a shallow, slow-moving river, but unfortunately quite wide. But they had not gone halfway across before Link was forced to release his horse's bridle to swim alongside her, and by then the water had nearly reached the saddle. "What if it gets any deeper?" Zelda asked.

"It w-w-won't go over Epona's back," he assured her. "B-but I'd be g-g-grateful if you'd p-put the bundle with my clothes in it on y-your shoulders."

Zelda swallowed nervously, turning and unfastening his rolled-up cloak and tying it instead around her upper arms.

They continued, Link swimming in the lead. The water did not go much deeper, lapping teasingly at the russet mare's sides as they reached the middle of the river.

Then there was a familiar splashing sound, and Zelda winced, turning to face the creature that caused the noise. An octorok hovered downstream several lengths away, glaring at them.

"Link?"

"I see it," he responded breathlessly, reaching a shaking hand up to stroke Epona's cheek. She tossed her head, shying away from his dripping pale hand. He swam to her other side as they drew nearer to the bank. "Keep going," he urged as he drew something swiftly from a saddlebag, leaving the mare's side and striking out towards the monster hovering downstream.

" _Link!"_ Zelda exclaimed, fear coursing through her—he had no weapons, except for the small knife he had taken, and he wore basically no clothing to protect him. "I command you to return at once! For Din's sake—get back here!"

He continued as if he hadn't heard her. Zelda swallowed thickly, heart hammering a staccato rhythm against her ribcage. Epona continued across the river, head held high above the water as she swam, ears flicking back and forth nervously.

The octorok spewed a mouthful of rock at Link and he veered away, but the water slowed him down. Zelda didn't see the blow land, but she heard the farm boy's pained grunt and cringed. "Come back!" she begged again, but he swam onward, ignoring her. Epona tossed her head with a high-pitched whinny of concern, but she didn't stop and continued hiking across the river.

The octorok fired again and Link ducked down underwater; at such a close range to the monster the blow must have caused significant damage, but this time he was far enough away that Zelda couldn't be sure he had escaped.

Suddenly Link lunged out of the water, reaching up and snatching the beast's tentacles. The muscles in his arms bulged from the effort of clinging to the glistening slimy appendages but he did not let go; Zelda's jaw dropped in astonishment and the octorok squeaked in alarm, shooting rocks in all directions, free tentacles flailing wildly and pushing at the farm boy's straining fingers. At last Link's free hand shot up, grasping the knife and plunging it into the creature's inflated head. Instantly it exploded, sending guts and slime in every direction as Link tumbled back to the water. He came back up seconds later, sputtering, golden hair plastered to his face, just as Epona reached the shore, dripping icy water.

Zelda dismounted at once, dashing towards Link as he struggled to finish the swim across. He was a great deal slower than his horse, and the river dragged him farther and farther away as he swam against the current, weak though it was. Worry creased Zelda's brow; even from the distance she could see him trembling, and his skin was a deathly shade of white. She wrung her hands, wishing there was something, _anything,_ that she could do to help him. _Isn't that the reason I'm here in the first place? To learn how to_ not _be useless?_ At her side Epona watched, scraping the ground with a feathered hoof.

At last the young farm boy reached shallower water, crawling out onto the red hearth and going limp, his breathing shallow and shaky as he trembled from the cold. Zelda rushed towards him, falling to her knees and placing a hand on his solid shoulder, as could as ice beneath her fingers. "Are you all right?" she demanded. "Don't you dare do that ever again!"

He lurched to his feet, stumbling a bit. "Gotta protect you, Princess," he slurred, slumping against Epona's side and taking her reins, leading her up the side of the valley. Zelda rushed after him, dismissing thoughts of his firm musculature, the left side of which was roguishly splattered with red mud.

"Your life is worth just as much as mine, despite what that Senza made you think," she insisted, resting a hand on his trembling arm.

He glanced at her sideways. "I've never truly doubted that I could be more than just a farm boy. Let me prove that to you in what way I can."

Zelda bit her lip as they continued up the hill. He was right, of course… yes, he had seemed vulnerable and dejected the night before, but that was to be expected—he had just taken a heavy blow to the head, after all.

And he had been painfully self-conscious when stripping in her presence only minutes before, and again… that was to be expected from any decent young man.

She thought of how he had defended her from the three thugs in Kakariko. She thought of how he had helped her hide from Senza. She thought of the tales she'd heard of his valor and selflessness when confronting the monsters attacking the village. She had seen him face the peahat, and then an octorok—twice.

Yes, he was quiet. But there was no doubting that he was bold and brave as well.

Link continued up the hill, shivering violently. The scars on his back stood out a twisted dark pink on the pale surface of his frozen skin. "The King gave me several tasks, Zelda," he went on. "One of them was to protect his daughter. I don't intend to fail." His voice was firm, despite the shivers wracking his body.

"I… understand," Zelda murmured, but concern for his well-being gripped her soul.

As dusk began to fall, they set up camp just over the edge of the valley. Link cleared a patch of soil from the underbrush, ripping out plants and weeds with calloused hands accustomed to doing just that. Once a sizable area had been cleaned, he gathered the dead plant matter in the center and lit a small fire using small stones found in the saddle bags. "As long as the wind doesn't pick up, we'll be fine," he said, and Zelda stretched out her hands before the flames. Link moved to Epona, rubbing her thick coat dry with another length of fabric torn from his cloak. Zelda tried not to enjoy the sight of his well-toned muscles flexing as he worked; she blushed and distracted herself by looking into the flames.

Only after Epona's slight tremors had subsided and she knelt near the fire, comfortable, did he grab his abandoned clothes and walk back over the edge of the hill. Zelda turned away, offering him what privacy she could, and made her way to the saddle lying on the ground, digging around for their food. _Is that…? No, no… that's just the flints._

When she heard his soft footsteps behind her she turned with a wide smile, holding out several strips of meat. "Here," she offered. "You've more than earned a meal."

He hesitated briefly, eyes flitting between her hands and the parcel of food lying in the dirt. At last he returned her grin and looked into her eyes. "Thank you," he said, taking the meat with hands that still trembled from cold, although he did look a good deal warmer. Stuffing one of the strips into his mouth he sat by the flames, wrapping his free arm around his knees and chewing thoughtfully.

Zelda studied him closely for several moments, her heart fluttering with admiration. She had not done much—almost nothing, in fact—but his thanks had been heartfelt and sincere, and it sparked within her the desire to return the kindness he had done for her since the moment they had met.

Then he looked up, and she glanced away, blushing, scanning the ground for something to distract her. _My bedroll. Yes—where_ did _my bedroll get to?_

Her heart sank—it had been with old Shard, and they hadn't seen any sign of him since the encounter with the peahat. _This Din-forsaken kingdom is a great deal more dangerous than I ever would have guessed._ With a heavy sigh she leaned back on the ground, closing her eyes and resigning herself to aching stiffness.

There was a sudden light touch on her shoulder and she saw Link above her, eyes gleaming in the last light of day. "Here," he whispered, his breath kissing her cheek, and unfastened his tattered cloak, bundling it into a lump and placing it gently beneath her head. Then he draped something over her—something warm, faintly musky and smelling of livestock. It was his bedroll.

"Won't you be cold?" Zelda asked guiltily, seeing him tremble.

"It doesn't bother me," he shrugged.

Zelda frowned. "You're lying; I can see you shivering."

His eyes glittered. "It doesn't bother me," he repeated earnestly, and Zelda knew that he was telling the truth, that, for whatever reason, the cold late-autumn air didn't bother him. She closed her eyes with a sigh and felt him move away; moments later she heard the soft, pure notes of his recorder lace the air, stilted and unskilled yet soothing and beautiful. _It must be the Sheikah magic,_ she thought, drifting swiftly off to sleep. _Guiding his fingers to play a lullaby…_


End file.
